Just Keep Swimming
by Stealth Dragon
Summary: I think the pressure's finally getting to John. Paranoia, dolphins, horses, alien otters and a lot of something for you Shepwhumpaholics. Funny, but it ain't that funny.
1. Lab Rat

A/N: There are three story types that I will not do – Romance, Slash, and Crossovers. Just wanted to make that clear so that no one got any ideas.

I'm so impatient. The piranha went from gentle nibbles to going at me with a chainsaw. So I said 'stupid, stupid piranha' and started my next story earlier than anticipated just to make the nagging stop. I have to warn you, though, it's going to be a strange tale. I'm not sure whether it will hold a candle to Wrong End of a Leash, but there's going to be plenty of Shep-whump, so that should satiate your sadistic (ahem, mine included) needs. There will be movie, TV, and novel references, plus the occasional odd sea-chanty. Please don't let that deter you from reading. I labeled this story as humorous, because it is, but is more angsty than funny, and may become sad.

For those of you fellow SGA writers, think of the story this way; it's an accumulation of all the crap that's happened to him. If you have done a Shep-whump tale, then while reading, imagine the stuff _you_ put him through to be a part of that crap that is going to beat down on him. Easier than being specific.

Also, This is a season two deal, despite the fact that I'm still stuck in season one and haven't seen season two yet. Most of what I know for two I got from the website and other stories, but certain characters abounding in season two may be vague and have a small presence - or none at all - and I apologize for that.

**Just Keep Swimming**

Author: Stealth Dragon, queen of metaphors

Rating: As always, T, but a light T. Very little swearing involved, mostly just a lot of angst.

Mandatory disclaimer – Stargate Atlantis and its characters are not mine. _Mine! _No, I said not mine. _Mine! Precioussss!_ Shut up Gollum! The following characters, however, are mine – CJ aka Cheshire John, Ilian Moranga- a scientist, Kelna, Jy, various thugs, and the finally debuted legless otter mentioned in _Leash. _Also not mine are any TV, movie, song or book quotes mentioned anywhere in the story.

Synopsis – John Sheppard's starting to crack. Sometimes even the protector needs protecting.

- - - - - - - - - - -

_I'd say the pressure's finally getting to dad but... what pressure?_ - Bart, from The Simpsons.

_Mad as a Hatter twice as nasty – _From my own personal collection of things I like to say. May end up in one of my own stories, I just haven't decided which one yet.

Part One

Lab Rat's Resolve, or Lack There-Of

_I don't feel up to this. Go ahead, John, say it – say 'I don't feel up to this,' because you don't. You feel like crap, and unknown devices could cause unknown and adverse affects to an already 'not up to much' body._

John did feel like crap; headache, joint ache, muscle fatigue, and lungs that felt lined with cotton insulation that came up as mucus every time he coughed. But, deep down, he knew that wasn't the reason why his legs refused to take that final step onto the round glass window set in the floor. Staring into the darkness held back by the glass was like staring into a void, and the image of the glass cracking then breaking away – sending John to spiral into infinity – sent fingers of ice tapping along his spine. Plus, despite McKay's assurances that this recently discovered device was most likely used for medical purposes, John was reluctant to step on it and discover otherwise.

John shivered, then coughed, hacked, and finally spit a wad of mucus onto the metal floor.

" That's disgusting!" McKay shrilled. He was across from John, holding a scanning-device over the circle of glass. He was staring at John with a twisted-up expression of disapproval and disgust.

John glared vehemently back at the egotistical scientist across from him. " Gee, McKay, I didn't know my being ill was upsetting you so much. Glad to see you care. If you want, I could try to stop breathing. Would that make you feel better? Suck it up, McKay. Unless you've got a tissue handy, whatever's coming up is going on the nice, clean floor. It was too clean to begin with anyways."

McKay dug around in the pocket of his jacket, then tossed a wad of (hopefully) unused tissues at John. " There, cough your hairballs into those. Happy? Good. Now step on the stupid glass already."

John crouched against protesting joints to pick up the tissues, then pulled one from the rest to cough into. It was a nasty cough, one that made him feel as though he were expelling a lung, but instead it just made the cartilage of his chest pop. When more mucus was expunged, he sucked in the deepest breath he could before the lung-snot regrouped.

_A Freakin' cold!_ At least he hoped it was a cold. He had been fine until four days ago when they had first set foot on this planet. On returning home, John had begun being plagued by the sniffles, and it had been escalating ever since. Beckett had chalked it all up to the onset of a cold, but John could swear it was turning into the flu – or worse, pneumonia. But, not being the doctor, he didn't have any say in the diagnosis, and even with his lungs feeling so packed, Carson still insisted that it was a cold, and had okayed him for duty since duty – at the moment – involved little more than being present to aid in the awakening of a few Ancient devices.

_Anything more interesting, and he would have had me confined to the infirmary. _

John glanced around the room. It was perfectly square, and rather large for containing a single circle of glass in the middle. There were no windows, and only one door hidden in the walls until opened.

It slid open now, and a short, rotund man dressed in a kind of white gown or robe strode in. The man had long, silver hair growing from the base of his scalp down to his back, while the rest of his scalp was clean and overly reflective.

_He must polish that dome of his or something,_ John pondered with a smirk. His general dislike for the man almost had him saying it out loud. Ilian Moranga was the man's name. He was a world-hopper, going from planet to planet – studying Ancient devices, Wraith devices, history, and whatever else he could get his grubby little hands on. He was McKay's kind of people, but made McKay a constant pleasure to be with in personality comparison. Ilian had a slightly piggish face, sporting a permanently upturned nose and everything. It was the eyes that irked John the most. They practically oozed self-importance. The man was arrogant to a degree that stifled even McKay's know-it-allism. If McKay held any illusions that he was a deity of the world, then Ilian believed himself as a deity over the whole universe.

John's opinion of the man all stemmed – not from appearance or manner alone – but from the fact that Ilian never once, since meeting John, looked at him. Neither did he ever address him. All attention and talk went to McKay, or Beckett whenever he came along, or even Dr. Weir when Ilian had been brought to Atlantis for a tour. But as for John, Teyla, Ronon and every other solider in Atlantis, he just acted as though they didn't exist. John, it seemed, especially. At least Ronon and Teyla had received a casual glance.

Following behind Ilian was a young woman dressed in a white tunic and white pants with white boots. She had long red hair that stood out like a blaze of fire in the snow against her clothes, but she too held the same look of indifference, especially toward John. He had tried striking up a conversation with her, but would have had better luck getting a wall to talk.

Last to follow was one of Ilian's three 'body-gaurds'. Maybe they were assistants, but John had never seen scientists as big as the one coming in from behind the red-head. He was taller than Sheppard, and wearing the same white outfit as the woman. Thick muscles stretched the fabric of the tunic and it made John wonder what kept the material from ripping. The guy's chestnut hair was as long as his boss', but tied back in a ponytail with a bit of string.

John smiled at the two when they entered, even though they didn't look at him.

" Red Sonja, Conan the Barbarian, nice to see you again." That one didn't even make them blink, let alone turn his way. Their real names were Kelna and Jy, but John preferred his pet names for them. Much more fitting.

Teyla also stepped in, staring narrow-eyed at the back of the two assistants. When she turned her dark gaze to John, her visage brightened and she smiled.

" Hello John."

John smiled back. " Thanks, Teyla, for a moment I thought I went all invisible again." He then coughed, and cleared his throat.

" You sound no better," she said. " Did not that tea I brought you help?"

John cleared his sore throat. " It cleared my chest up for a while."

" Then I should brew more."

" Please, do. It was nice not having to wake up suffocating."

Sheppard turned his attention to Ilian and his two goons (though John had to admit, Kelna was one good-looking goon). Ilian was observing McKay with a lifted brow and slight smile. The moment the two scientists had met on another world sporting ruins and devices galore, friendship had occurred – friendship faster than John could blink. The little man was easy to read, and nothing he said or expressed suggested that he was a threat. It really was all about the science for him, and on being brought to Atlantis for a visit, he had reacted like a kid on Christmas morning. Plus, he was very willing to share his discoveries, as long as he got credit for them, and he was willing to share in _making_ discoveries as well.

Ilian's eyes flicked briefly in John's direction, and the small smile vanished. " Why has he not stepped onto the glass?"

McKay's own eyes darted up at John. " Yeah, John? Why haven't you stepped on it yet?"

_Because I don't want to, you little prick,_ he thought, his eyes boring holes into Ilian. John's hesitation felt more to him like petrification. There were three results when it came to making contact with something only his genes could activate: hit, miss, or excruciating pain. Normally, it was hit or miss, but pain had a bigger influence on him. It was only two weeks ago that McKay had had him touch something that had electrocuted him, nearly frying his innards. The thing had been malfunctioning, which was the reason behind John nearly snuffing it. He'd had worse, of course, but being electrocuted had been a reminder of how precarious his luck tended to be.

" John?" McKay prodded.

Sheppard snapped from his reverie and realized that his heart was pounding. " What?" he snapped.

" Step on the glass."

John sighed. " McKay, are you sure about this?"

McKay stood, stretching the kinks from his muscles. " Of course. The archives I translated said that this room was one of five used in 'healing purposes', and from what I gather it was kind of like an X-ray machine."

" As in radiation, McKay?"

" No, as in 'let's see your bones without risking you never having any children'. The Ancient's were advanced, Colonel, they wouldn't need to use radiation. And according to my readings, I think it's ready to go."

John narrowed his eyes. " You _think_?"

McKay, in response, rolled his own eyes. " Okay, it _is_ ready to go. It's just an X-ray device, Sheppard. It's not going to burn your skin off."

John's heart thudded a little harder. " You don't know that."

" Yes I do. Not stop being such a baby and step on it."

John bristled. _He thinks I'm afraid. Well, I am, but..._ _Ah, crap, I am!_

John was at a loss. He _really_ had no desire to step onto a thin piece of glass and allow whatever affect this super X-ray device had on the body wreak possible havoc on him. But neither was he going to let McKay have the last laugh and think him a coward. Besides, the painful devices tended to be few and far between.

John took a deep breath, coughed, then another deep breath. He felt Teyla place a comforting hand on his shoulder, and looking at her saw the concern in her eyes, silently speaking _You don't have to do this._

John shrugged helplessly, then stepped onto the glass. It immediately lit up with a soft, white glow, and that was it. John let out a held breath of relief.

" Happy?" he stated. McKay took the usual readings.

" Everything seems good. Well, John, time to open you up."

John cringed. " Please don't put it like that."

Everyone exited the room, with Teyla shooting John one last look of reassurance marred by concern. John almost wanted to beg her to stay – almost – and berated himself for it.

_You've been shot, beaten, tortured, sucked on by alien bugs, stunned, mutated - and you can't handle a little X-ray machine? You're such a dork._

A low hum began to build up to a crescendo that resounded about the metal room, penetrating John's flesh to make his bones vibrate. His heart thudded faster, then lurched when the light beneath his feet exploded to fill the entire room. John gasped.

SGA

Teyla peered over McKay's shoulder at the wall that had now vanished to become a kind of window through which she could see John. He looked relatively fine, if a little pale, but he had been pale like that for days since the sickness hit him. McKay and Ilian were working the controls of the console, and as they did a great light – like sunlight yet tempered enough not to be blinding – filled the room until John vanished within it. Then the wall – or screen as McKay called it – went black, and Sheppard's form reappeared.

Teyla's jaw went slack in shock. This was not John they were seeing, and yet it was. They were seeing _through_ him, to his bones and organs. Words written in ancient appeared on the left and right of the screen, as well as something similar to the device Beckett used to monitor heartbeats. Yet instead of a mechanical beep, the sound she heard she could barely describe except as a kind of pulsating rushing sound.

_Such as what the heart and blood must sound like within the body,_ she thought in wonder.

From the rapid rush and pulsing red lines, John's heart was beating exceedingly fast. She watched in both wonder and horror how his lungs expanded and shrank quickly. Mckay did something that dimmed the organs and highlighted John's skeleton so that she was able to actually _see_ his ribcage expand and contract. McKay adjusted the controls again, dimming the bones and brightening organs, then muscles. The muscles pulled and twitched, and Teyla saw a constant movement in John's throat – swallowing.

McKay did something where everything but the lungs dimmed, and half the lungs seemed to melt away, revealing what was inside. Teyla recoiled.

" Wow," McKay breathed. " Sheppard really is congested."

McKay switched between organs, bones, the flow of blood, muscles. When he went back to organs, Teyla realized that the motion of his lungs and ribs was even faster than before. She became focused on his heart, fascinated by its rapid writhing as it sent blood rushing through his body. McKay pressed something that switched perspectives – side, back, front, even from above.

John's head was tilted back and his jaw-bone was slack as though he were staring at something that amazed him.

Teyla wrinkled her brow. John was so rigid, his breathing and heartbeat so fast, and his muscles looked ready to snap.

" Dr. McKay, is something wrong with Colonel Sheppard?"

McKay switched through the various views of Sheppard's insides. He squinted his eyes, then widened them, his features slackening.

" I – I think... he's panicking."

SGA

John saw only white, pure blinding white that spilled in through his eyes to fill every molecule of his body with fire. He was paralyzed, but still standing. Or was he standing? He couldn't tell. He felt nothing but the agony of the fire ripping through him, consuming him, stopping the breath in his lungs.

_I'm dying! Stop, please! It's killing me!_ But since he couldn't pull in air, he couldn't talk. He couldn't scream.

Then came the images, and the sensations that defined them. The giant bug sucking the life out of him, and the pain of it. The searing heat of a bullet tearing through his body, the numbness of a stunner, the shred of electricity through his frame, cracked bones, rent flesh, torn muscles, the pain of being punched, kicked, and thrown against walls or machines. Memories of pain and fear fired at him continuously like bullets from a P-90, shredding his brain, mutilating his body. He was spiraling in a white abyss, sucked up in a psychotic rewind of his life that preferred focusing only on the terrible, making him dance the same dance of cardiac arrest and resuscitation, snapped and healed bones, deprived and relieved lungs. He was falling, flying, everywhere and nowhere, nothing and no one.

_What's happening! Why! Wwwwhhhhyyyyyyyyy...! Stooooppp, please! _Tears streamed hot down his face.

The light vanished, the memories stopped, and Sheppard fell to the floor in his mad scramble to back away from the circle of glass. When his back hit the wall and his escape was obstructed, he brought his knees to his chest, wrapped one arm around them, and began rocking back and forth with his other hand gripping his hair. His muscles twitched and spasmed when the memories flashed into his addled brain and the pain of them tried another miserable assault against his body. But now the memories were only that – memories, and the pain was muted to almost nothing.

But there was a possibility the pain might return. He stared with wide-eyed terror at the dark void contained behind a thin sheet of glass. The pain was in there, and if the glass cracked, it would come again.

_Wake up, John! The thing's turned off! It's dead! It was just a bunch of mental crap! Stupid memories!_

_Why did I feel it?_

He was shaking so bad that he could hardly breath, and his heart pounded so fast that it hurt. Tears kept rolling down his face, some into his mouth where he tasted the salt.

_Memories, memories, memories, just memories, just a machine..._ He felt no pain now, no indications of internal damage. His lungs were still hindered by phlegm, and he felt cold - that was it.

_Stop shaking you wuss! It wasn't real!_

He took several breaths as deep as his compacted lungs would allow. He could feel his heart start to descend out of its rib-cracking pound to a more gentle hammering, and his shaking subside into mild tremors.

_That's it, John. Control, take control._

He heard the whispered rush of the door sliding open, and so quickly wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand.

" Colonel Sheppard!" Teyla's voice. He felt her place her hand on his shoulder, and the reality of physical contact finally grounded his consciousness.

John rested his forehead on his knees, breathing. " I'm fine. I'm good. I'm fine."

" Colonel, you're shivering."

" Sheppard, what happened?" Now it was McKay.

John cleared his aching throat. " I don't know. It... I... There was – pain, a lot of pain, then it just stopped."

" Are you all right?"

John lifted his head. " I'm getting there." He unfolded himself, then started his cautious rise to his feet on unsteady legs. Teyla helped him by holding his arm. When he was up, he waited until his legs found themselves, then he straightened his stiff back. He turned to McKay who stared at Sheppard with nothing but raw concern. That concern quickly shifted to remorse.

" John I am so, so sorry. I didn't think anything was wrong, I thought it just what the machine did to – I don't know – determine what needed to be fixed in the body. I... kind of... didn't think about the possibility that you were... um, terrified."

John looked at McKay through heavy-lidded eyes. He wanted nothing more than to smack the Canadian upside the head. Then the king of indifference himself, Ilian, walked in, going straight to the glass circle.

" Did he break it?" Ilian asked. McKay looked over at the pudgy scientist and blinked several times in alarm.

" Um, I don't know, I was kind of busy making sure the Colonel was still breathing."

John's anger abated a little at that. Whatever his frame of mind, at least Rodney had heart enough to be worried about the lab rat after an experiment rather than the equipment.

Ilian did a quick glance at Colonel Sheppard. " He is fine. But we must determine why the device sent his systems going beyond the norm. Has he told you what happened?"

" Yes," Teyla said darkly. " It caused him terrible pain."

Ilian looked at Teyla, then at McKay.

_Pompous freakin' windbag!_

" Um," McKay stuttered. " What – what she said."

" Elaborate," Ilian replied, still looking at the Canadian.

McKay looked from Ilian to John, for once in his life absolutely confused and, therefore, speechless. " Uh..."

" I saw images," John blurted irritably. " Memories, bad ones, painful ones, and I felt them. They just kept coming, and my body felt like it was on fire. I thought I was _freaking_ dying!" John stepped forward toward Ilian with the most massively menacing air he could gather, when Teyla placed her hand on his chest to stop him.

Ilian looked away, nodding thoughtfully. " I see. I have found some devices that, when not working properly, will cause severe pain, even hallucinations. I believe the power source may be at fault, too much of it. Perhaps removing a few crystals..."

John stopped listening. He felt tired enough to fall asleep on his feet, his body led-weighted and ready to go down.

_No nighty-night yet. _

" I shall adjust, then we shall retest..." Those particular words of Ilian got John listening again. He glared with everything he had left at the fat little man who wouldn't look at him even if the fate of the universe depended on it.

" Screw this," Sheppard growled, and strode fast and furious from the room. Teyla followed him, keeping close as John trudged down the dimly lit corridor of sterile steel and not much else. The solid metal walls without blemish or alteration made his flesh crawl and his spine numb. When he turned the corner, the term 'lab rat' took on a whole new meaning for him, and he had a sudden urge to rip into the walls and make doors of his own, destroying the sensation of being in a maze.

He turned another corner, and shuddered.

" Colonel?" Teyla asked, but John refused to speak, just while he was negotiating the corridors.

Finally, and to his utter relief, he came to the transport that would take them top-side. Both he and Teyla stepped in, with Rodney suddenly joining them half out of breath the moment John was about to activate the device. It shot them up into a room similar to a cellar but far larger and with a wide set of stairs. The three trudged up those stairs to a kind of cellar door that slid open for them with humid air pouring in like a practical flood. Outside the day was warm, hot, sticky, and tinted green from the thick vegetation overhead. It was like the Amazon, complete with a thousand animal calls and monkey-like creatures with bat ears, rat heads, and skin stretched between arms and legs that allowed them to glide from one thick branch to the next. Sometimes, a flat, azure, reptile head would shoot out of the underbrush and grab a monkey-rat.

The thick air sliding into john's lungs had him nearly doubled-over with coughing.

Rodney immediately raised his hands in a placating manner. " Colonel, really, I'm am so, so, so sorry. I-I had no idea. The power readings seemed consistent, but I guess I hadn't taken into consideration just how much power was really needed. I assumed it to be the same amount as the last device we tested..."

When the coughing subsided, John shook his head. " Stow it, Rodney, I'm not pissed at you. Well, okay, maybe a little, but it won't last. It's that freakin' Moron guy..."

" Moranga."

John gave Rodney a withering look. " I know what I was saying. What's that fat SOB got against me, anyway? I'm the one turning on all his _precious_ devices. You'd think the man would show a little more respect since I'm the key he needs to start the ignition."

Tayla looked at Rodney. " The man is exceedingly rude. He looks through me, and treats John as though he is not even there."

John, still glaring, locked onto Rodney's gaze and held it. " _Lab-rat_, McKay. Is it just me, or are those two words _really_ starting to describe who I am? Not Lt. Colonel, not pilot, not Atlantis CO, but _lab-rat_."

Rodney couldn't respond, only swallow uneasily. The man seemed to deflate, ego-wise and everything, and for the first time ever John was actually beginning to see the underlying humility of Rodney McKay. Too bad he was too worn out to be surprised by it.

" Colonel... You're not. And I'm sorry if Moranga sees you that way, but I swear I don't. Yes, you have the gene and that kind of makes you a necessity... No, wait, that came out wrong - you'd still be a necessity even if you didn't have it."

John closed his eyes. " Rodney, if I didn't have the gene, I wouldn't even be here. I'd still be in Antarctica, probably coughing up crap there too." He had to lean against a tree and close his eyes when weariness started beating on him. He opened his eyes a crack to see Rodney's mouth gaping like a gasping fish.

Sighing, John pushed off the tree and led the way down the winding path leading to the gate situated by Ilian's place of residence. Ilian called it a 'camp', but John had yet to see any camp resemble a two-story house filled with technological tid-bits. Once at the gate that stood like a lawn ornament several yards from Ilian's house, John picked up a small, square pad dangling from the DHD and punched in the code that lowered Ilian's personal gate shield. The only reason Atlantis was acquainted with Ilian was because another team had stumbled upon him doing research on another planet.

When the shield blinked off, John dialed home as Teyla prepped their IDC. Up until now, McKay had remained unnaturally, abashedly quiet.

" What, you're leaving?" McKay asked.

" To go to the infirmary. Kind of inevitable considering what just happened, and I want to get it over with. You know, prepare for the side-effects?"

" But Ilian has an infirmary."

John smiled bitterly as he hit the last symbol and the gate rushed to life in an explosion of horizontal liquid. " I wouldn't dream of dirtying Ilian's clean facility with my filthy, rat hide. Come on, McKay, do you really think that man would give me the check-up I probably need? He'd have some goon listen to my heart, take my temperature, then give me a clean bill of health." John stepped toward the gate, then looked back at McKay. " You coming?"

Rodney sighed. " I suppose I don't have much choice in the matter. Weir's going to want an explanation, and I'm pretty much the only one that can give it to her."

John smirked. McKay was finally back to sounding like McKay. It had only been a matter of time.

The radio in John's ear crackled to life.

" _Lt_. _Colonel Sheppard, we have received your IDC._"

John's bitter smirk never left his face. " Let's rock." He turned, approaching the rippling liquid. " And no, McKay, I'm not mad at you."

SGA

John had his head tilted back as Carson moved the stethoscope about his chest, holding up the Colonel's shirt with his other hand. When he told John to take a breath, John inhaled, then exhaled by coughing. Beckett removed the scope and pursed his lips.

" Sounds unpleasant in there, Colonel. You're gettin' to be even more congested, and if that _X-ray_ thing you talked of is to blame, I've a right mind to slap McKay upside the head m'self. Although I must admit the device sounds a might fascinatin'. An X-ray machine that lets you see all of the insides – and in motion to boot."

John adjusted his shirt back around himself. " I'd be inclined to agree, except the thing tried to kill me. So, sorry doc, can't share the sentiment."

Carson shrugged. " Aye, thought as much. Convenience sometimes tends to come with a price – sometimes." Then Carson eyed John suspiciously. " You know, this is the first time you've come into the infirmary conscious and without a nasty fuss." Then his eyes rounded over. " Bloody-hell, I think this is the first time you've ever come in voluntarily! Wish I had the means to capture this moment."

John chuckled dryly, which turned into a cough. " Ha-ha," he gasped out. " No offense, but bite me, doc."

Carson snickered. " You had that comin', John. But you're right, I'll drop it. I should be savorin' this moment. It may never come again. Now for your favorite part of the visit."

John cringed, but held out his arm all the same. Smiling, Beckett picked up the needle and inserted it into the crook of John's arm. The moment the needle pierced flesh, pain that wasn't the norm when it came to being stuck shot up John's arm to go radiating through his chest. He went rigid as a stone, and hissed in a breath through his clenched teeth.

Carson looked at John oddly, then carefully removed the needle with its capsule full of blood. He placed a piece of cotton gauze over the tiny hole.

" Did that hurt you John?"

John nodded his head jerkily. " Yeah. It kind of did, and I'm not talking a pinch." Both men exchanged increasingly worried looks.

" Infirmary stay?" John asked a little pathetically.

Carson nodded sadly. " Aye, lad. Sorry. But just for the night should all go well. We've played this tune enough to know how it goes. Besides, I wouldn't be too worried. Usually those bloody devices are affectin' you by now. Bein' sick might be makin' your nerves a wee bit tender, or you're just feeling phantom pains. We'll play it safe, but I wouldn't worry your head about it."

Carson then patted John on the shoulder, and took the blood to where it was going to be tested.

John felt oddly subdued, defeated, and he didn't like the sensation all that much. It was because he no longer had the energy to placate his stubborn side. He pushed himself farther back on the bed, then swung his legs up and stretched himself out with his head hitting the pillow, inciting a throbbing scream from his skull.

" Damn, sorry! Stupid head." He rolled his eyes on saying that, then closed them. _Like hell I'm wearing scrubs or a gown. _But like he would have a choice. At that moment, the lack of movement, and the softness of the bed supporting his bones, felt way too good to disrupt. Yet the aches were being exceptionally vicious. All he needed was a pain-pill, and this would be paradise.

John shivered. _Just nothing administered through a needle. _Getting stuck had hurt like hell. It had never hurt like hell before. It made his heart plummet while thinking on it.

He didn't want to feel pain again. He really, truly, with everything he had, _did not_ want to feel anymore pain. He rolled onto his side and curled into a ball, angered by this sudden sensation of unease, but in no ways about to uncurl himself. Being stretched on the bed had made him feel too... exposed, open.

_Freakin' vulnerable? Ah hell!_ But his brain refused to drop the feeling. Sighing, coughing, then finishing the sigh, Sheppard tried to move his thoughts to places that would help him drift off.

_' Rooll the 'ole chariot along, I say rooll the 'ole chariot along, I say rooll the 'ole chariot along and we'll on get on behi-ind... What the flying freak of nature...! Who's thoughts are these?_'

John snapped his eyes open. The song – which he had never heard before in his life – had popped unbidden into his head. Strangely, the voice hadn't sounded like his own.

SGA

A/N: No! This is not another 'weird device screwing Sheppard up' story. You'll discover this some time in the next chapter. And for those of you who found the above lyrics familiar... my sympathies. It's something I heard at a Renaissance fair and that's all I remember of it. I believe it's a drinking song, about grog. Words may not be precise. Stay tuned. And yes, Ronon will make brief appearances.


	2. Atlantis' Only Dolphin

A/N: All the talk of dolphins in my last story made me think 'hey, Atlantis could use a dolphin.' That, and swimming is fun. Again, all book, song, TV, and movie quotes of any kind are not mine.

I forgot to warn you, the chapters are going to be pretty long.

Part Two

Atlantis' Only Dolphin

_'The time has come' the Walrus said, ' to talk of many things. Of ships and sails and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings. And why the sea is boiling hot...' which it's not. Ha! It's not, not at all. Good temperature, really. Hey! Johnny-boy!'_

John's eyes snapped open to artificial dusk. It was never totally dark in the infirmary. Half the time it wasn't even close to being dark, but seeing as how little concerning the unfortunate was going on, the infirmary didn't exactly need to be lit up like the morning.

John stiffly uncurled himself from his constant fetal position and allow his blood more freedom to flow. A tendril of cool air crept through the loose collar of the T-shirt Carson had been kind enough to grab from John's room. His skin prickled and he shivered, then rolled onto his left side with a grunt and a grimace. Beckett had once told him that when it came to sleeping on one's side, it was best to sleep on the right, since sleeping on the left wasn't good for the heart.

But sleeping on nothing but his right side had created a dull ache all along his bones, and a small annoying cramp in several ribs. Yet the moment he put the smallest amount of pressure on his left side, an ache and cramp started up there as well. So he rolled onto his back, and discovered that he had a back-ache.

The one time he didn't have an I.V. stuck shooting painkillers into his vein was the one time he wished he did. Or at least an Aspirin within reach. But it wasn't as though he were an invalid. He had the means of grabbing a pill himself, or at least running into a nurse who knew where the pills were stashed.

John started to rise only to drop back onto the bed when his backbone cramped. It wasn't anything crippling or excruciating, but he was still too tired to want to deal with it, so decided to just wait until a nurse dropped by. He took a breath to sigh, and coughed until the cramp in his flanks became more like a tearing in the muscles. It stopped when he exhaled, pushing every last inch of air from his lungs until his ribcage constricted to the point that it felt ready to implode. He then took a slow, tentative breath, and when the cramp didn't manifest, filled his lungs the rest of the way.

Rib-cramps sucked

_'That's it, Johnny. Nice and slow...'_

John froze. The thought had neither been his voice, _nor_ his thought. It had just popped in there, just like the one that had woken him up. He listened into the silence, into his mind, for the voice, but it didn't come back. Then his heart plummeted, and his eyes went wide.

_Oh my gosh! That stupid X-ray's making me schizoid!_

_'Oh, come now, John. Don't be so pessimistic.'_

_Who are you!_

_'Dang! Watch the shouting! Sheesh, John chill. Relax. I'm no one you need to worry about. Just relax and I'll get out of your head. I just wanted to know who was doing all that thinking. You're thinking too loud, pal. Tone it down.'_

John, his heart pounding loud enough for the whole base to hear, hardly breathed as he listened. The voice had sounded in his head, but since it hadn't been his voice – neither male nor female – his mind wanted to believe that the voice was coming from outside himself. He let out a shaky sigh and closed his eyes.

_Schizoid. _

SGA

Dr. Weir strode quickly into the infirmary, but found all the beds to be unoccupied. Scrunching her brow, she scanned the mini-hospital for Carson, and found him hunched over a table, shaking his head. Weir moved toward him.

" Dr. Beckett? Where's the Lt. Colonel?"

Carson remained hunched over the table, shifting through various charts and notes. " I released him to his quarters." He then straightened and turned to face her, though not looking exactly _at _her. His gaze was distant, distracted, and the worry creasing his brow made Weir go suddenly tense.

" He's relatively fine," Carson said as though speaking to himself. " Or, at least I thought he was."

Now Weir was rigid. " Why, what is it?"

" I'm not sure. Well, I do know it's not the device he stepped into, I can say that much. It's more his – cold. Or what I thought to be his cold. I took a blood sample from him yesterday and just finished my analysis. I won't bore you with the details, since I don't understand most of them m'self... but it appears as though the wee bug he's caught isn't quite so – _little_ anymore. It's growin'."

" What do you mean 'growing'? Multiplying?"

Carson shook his head no. " _Growin', _changin'. It's... not the same. When I first took the Colonel's blood to make sure his illness was nothin' alien, only earth-based – it had resembled what a normal cold virus _would_ resemble. Now it doesn't, not even close, and it looks as though it's been changin' for some time."

" And how do you know the machine wasn't involved?"

At this, the worry in Carson's features shifted ever so slightly to become guilt, and he momentarily looked away. " Because the symptoms of his illness was gettin' worse. Since viruses tend to get worse before they get better, I thought nothin' of it. I told him that if his headache increased and vomiting followed that he was to return to Atlantis, since it meant he was getttin' the flu. The illness, at the moment, is at the same level it was _before_ he went off world – the amount of coughing and such. The machine had nothin' to do with it. But the Ancient machine aside, this virus has me concerned. Since it's not a cold, and nothin' like I've seen about, then that means it's alien."

Weir's jaw twitched and she smiled caustically. " And nothing spells trouble like an alien virus." She lowered her gaze and began messaging her forehead with a sharp sigh. " Why do these things always happen to John?"

Beckett shrugged helplessly. " You're askin' the wrong man. I just clean up the mess. I'm still doin' research, but it may be safe to say that the virus isn't contagious. I've been around Sheppard the most since he became ill, so tested my own blood, which came out clean. On the other hand, seein' as how this is somethin' we've never dealt with before, I'm startin' to consider quarantinin' him, just until I can learn a wee bit more."

Weir winced. " He's not going to like that. So why did you release him?"

Beckett fidgeted in rising discomfort, like a kid about to spill the beans on whatever bad thing he had done. " It's rather tricky to explain. The Colonel was acting agitated, jumpy, every time someone walked by. I'd done a quick study of the blood before my deeper scrutiny, and say for the change in the virus saw nothing else of concern, and thought that he might be able to rest better in his quarters. He looked exhausted enough to sleep for days, so I doubt he'd go anywhere else. I didn't really want to let him go, but he needs to rest, and all the activity wasn't helping matters."

Weir touched the radio at her ear. " Lt. Colonel Sheppard?" But got no reply.

" Might be sleepin'," Carson suggested.

She touched the radio again. " Teyla."

" _Yes, Dr. Weir?"_

" I was wondering if you could do me a small favor. Could you go to Colonel Sheppard's quarters and make sure he's there – asleep."

" _He is not."_

Weir's heart lurched. " What?"

" _I saw him, not long ago. I thought he was going to the mess hall, but he is not there now."_

" Oh – okay, thank you Teyla."

Dr. Weir looked at Dr. Beckett, both mirroring the same round-eyed expression. Then Carson's shoulders sagged.

" Why doesn't the lad ever listen to me? Just once?"

SGA

John was limping. Only three minutes ago he'd been walking just fine, then aches started taking on an uncanny resemblance to pain. It started in his foot, and slowly crawled up his leg to his hip, forcing him to hobble. Now his back was beginning to protest.

_So just when was it I went from thirty-ish to seventy-ish? _

He'd already taken an Aspirin, and laying down had been just as bad as standing. That, and he was consumed by the need to keep going. His quarters felt too small, too much like that X-ray room. But being out in the halls, around others, was even worse. When people walked by – whether he recognized them or not – he moved away from them. He did so to Teyla, Zelenka, and Ronon. The kicker had been McKay. On seeing him and some other scientist round the corner, John's heart started pounding and his chest tightened. Terror had cast a veil over his mind that obscured all reason, and the only thought to enter his brain was a scream for him to run. So he did – not really running but walking fast until he came to a room where he could hide. Only when he heard McKay's non-stop voice fading away did he emerge.

John tried to fathom the reason for the terror but was too distracted by the presence of the rest of the Atlantis members to be able to think properly. His heart had yet to stop pounding.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

Now aches were pains, and reason was abandoning him. He felt trapped, and though no one had yet to look his way for more than two seconds, felt a thousand eyes watching him as though he were the freak of the month. All in all, he needed a place to sit, and solitude to think.

_Balcony? No, people always pop up there._ He did know one other place, though. He had discovered it during a run, and thanks to an odd noise had checked it out. On discovering what the noise was, he had made an effort to stop by when he could – and always brought a power bar with him.

He hobbled there now, wincing with each step but moving fast all the same, as though spiting his own body.

_Stupid body!_

He took a transport to the lowest level of Atlantis that was still above water, entering a corridor bereft of any human presence say for himself. When he reached the end, a door slid open, and Sheppard was hit by a warm ocean breeze smelling strongly of brine. He paused, breathing in the salty oxygen, imagining it coursing through his bloodstream. Sunlight warmed his face and chest.

" Ooohhhh yeah, that's what I'm talking about." He stepped onto the wide platform that was like a metal jetty, though way bigger than any jetty on earth, big enough for three puddle jumpers to land on. Of course whether or not the platform was used for that he couldn't say. The Ancients might have enjoyed a bit of sailing for all he knew, and at one time technologically advanced sail-boats had been magnetically tethered to this Jetty.

The platform was cool under his bare feet. Boots had been out of the question after the complaint his back made on having to bend so much. He moved to the end of the platform and scanned the sapphire water that shimmered with sunlight dancing off its surface. He then pulled the bar from his pocket, tore it open, and began breaking off chunks to toss into the water.

He heard a splash, followed by a bark of a squeak. A small, sleek, furry amber body leaped out of the water with another squeak. John tossed a chunk of power bar into the air, and the body leaped again, snatching the food. John chuckled. A head poked from the water, barking little yips.

The creature was, basically, like an otter. The face, however, was slightly longer, similar to a sea-lion's, as were the whiskers. Width-wise it was small as an otter, but length was also more along the lines of a sea-lion. John had seen the little critters before, leaping out of the water as he skimmed the surface with a puddle jumper, and again when John had heard their barking and discovered the platform. On stepping out, they'd fled, and John had assumed them to be exceedingly shy. He'd also thought they were legless, like snakes.

Then, when he'd come out a second time with a bowl of popcorn to watch the water and daydream about surfing, one of the little otter-snakes had emerged to snatch the bits of popcorn John hadn't caught in his mouth. Since then, he always made it a habit to come out to the jetty with some kind of food and coax the creature to return. And it did. He also discovered that the things did have legs, forelegs only that were short with webbed feet, like the feet of penguins.

Seal – otter – penguin, all rolled into one, with flukes at the end of the long tail. Sometimes, John was able to attract a whole pod of the things, but for the most part only one ever showed up for reasons known only to that one. John had named it Little Jim, since Steve and Bob had already been taken. Plus he had had a buddy with a dog named Big Jim.

John tossed more pieces of the bar into the air, and Little Jim leaped to catch. But the small act was making his shoulder hurt like the rest of his body. His hip wasn't too happy about being used either. Carefully, he lowered himself into sitting position, grunting and gritting his teeth, it hurt so much. When he was finally down, he let out a gasp and wiped tears from his eyes. Then, with a start, he realized that he was never going to get back up again.

He tossed another crumb furiously. " Son of a... ! Stupid, freakin' body!"

Sitting was no picnic either, and did nothing to relieve his back. He slouched, letting his spine curve, then sat straight, then slouched again. Nothing. He tossed another crumb, then the whole bar which Little Jim caught in mid-air, doing a flip John couldn't appreciate because of the pain.

To top it all off, he'd forgotten his radio. No calling for help for him.

He could see Jim sliding boneless as a ribbon just beneath the surface. It twisted, arched, circled, and did a kind of pretzel maneuver as it waited for more food. John envied it. No pain in Jimmy's joints. It was almost hypnotic watching the creature move, relaxing John enough to alleviate a small twinge of pain here and there. With a grimace, he moved his legs to hang over the edge of the Jetty, and slowly dipped his feet in the water. The water was cool, pleasantly cool, and felt good on his sore soles.

' W_hy not go for a swim, John?'_

John was in too much discomfort to go rigid, but his heart started another round of jack-hammering.

_' A little dip'll do you good.'_

John shivered. _Who... are you?_

_' No one with a pronounceable name. Come on, John. You're hurting, you need relief, and the water's perfect. You know you want to. Just a small swim, staying near the platform/jetty thing. Jim won't hurt you. He only likes to eat things that smell and look like fish, which you don't.'_

John stared into the water that shimmered like the event horizon of the gate. The discomfort wouldn't let him think, except about how much he wanted the discomfort to end. His feet felt a lot better, so who's to say his body wouldn't feel better as well? It was worth a try. And he was desperate enough to try anything.

With his hands firmly planted on the edge of the platform, and without stripping off his clothes, he slid into the water until it came to his neck, then turned, gripping the Jetty's rim.

The relief was fast coming. Pain became aches, and the aches shrank to become nothing more than a distant thought at the back of his mind. His bones were free from use, from gravity, so the pain had no reason to exist.

_' See? Told you.'_

John didn't even mind that a strange voice was in his head. He pushed gently away from the jetty, floating on his back as the water supported him, arms splayed to either side of himself. He slowly moved his arms to propel himself backward, away from the platform. Even moving wasn't so bad anymore. He turned, and plunged his head under the water with his eyes open. He saw Jim doing more pretzel moves while regarding John with black opal eyes and flowing whiskers. Light danced on its golden back that shined with every sinewy move. The otter-seal was far cooler underwater.

John turned and propelled forward with both his arms and his legs. He stayed beneath the water until his lungs begged for air, so poked his head above the surface, gasped, then went back under. He went deep until the pressure made his ears hurt and his lungs required a refill. Little Jim kept his distance but followed John as he swam further from the platform. Had John gills, he would have never surfaced again.

Though he had moved away from the platform, John followed along the submerged base of Atlantis, grabbing on to whatever jutted out when his limbs grew tired. Sometimes he would submerge, and remain submerged without moving, floating like a piece of driftwood and reveling in the absence of feeling anything until his need for air butted in. Then he would resurface and move lazily along, stopping with one hand on Atlantis and the other stretched out to the side feeling the unseen currents.

Mentally, he felt slightly detached as though tired, a sentiment not exactly shared with his body. It wasn't exactly lightheaded-ness but more as though his brain were trying to wander incoherently, as though he were bored out of his skull. Memories and images flashed in and out of his awareness, causing him to pause every so often in his swim to try and snatch them and see what they were about. But he might as well have been trying to snatch air the way they flitted away from him. In fact, many memories began to meld together. Wraiths attacked while he was being sucked dry by a giant tick. The energy shadow was hovering at the gate, and the Genii were coming through.

_No, wait, that can't be right._ John, holding onto some kind of pipe, twitched his head to try and clear it. He submerged himself again, closing his eyes and sinking into the tranquility of floating. The images slowed, then stopped. He stayed under even when his lungs were practically screaming, then surfaced, gasping deep until his ribs felt ready to split apart. He released the breath with a sharp exhale and studied his surroundings.

He was distanced enough from the jetty for it to be small and difficult to see over the water. Atlantis surrounded him in a forest of towers and high walls that the water lapped against. He looked up as he tread water, and craned his neck back.

_' Rooll the 'ole chariot along...!'_

John snapped his gaze from the sky and the towers, and instinctively searched around for the source of the singing. He heard a squeaking bark, and saw Little Jim's head poking out of the water, staring at him. Then John turned.

Fifteen feet away, a sleek gray body leaped out of the water, back-flipped, and plunged back in. John's heart seemed to stop, as did his body. In his shock, he slipped under and clawed out with one hand until he grabbed a narrow metal outcrop, pulling himself back up.

He shook the water from his hair and eyes, then searched the water's surface.

Jim's head was still poking out, bobbing on the waves, but that was it. John wiped the water from his face and looked questioningly at Jim.

" Did you see that?"

Jim squeaked, then dunked his head under. John rolled his eyes.

" Great, just go ahead and ditch me then."

_'Don't feel bad, Johnny, it'll be back.'_

John's heart began trying to knock itself senseless against his chest. His breaths came quick, and his head snapped around as his eyes sought the owner of the disembodied voice.

" Who are you!" he shouted.

A gray, bottle-nosed head poked out of the water, squeaking.

_' Howdy John!'_

John yelped, and started backstroking away frantically, only to stop when his foggy mind finally registered what it was he was seeing.

A bottle nose dolphin. _Tursiops Truncatus. _Flipper.

" What the hell!" John choked in a voice a few too many octaves high. He wiped more water from his face, regarding the dolphin as it regarded him.

His breath started coming faster, and he shrank away from the dolphin. " Oh no, no, no, no, hell no, I'm losing it. Unless – unless, someone brought it here.. F-For research, or something. Right?"

_'Guess again, Johnny. Or don't, because you'll never get it in a million years.'_

John flinched, cringed, and began trembling. _I'm losing it, I'm losing it, I'm losing it... _Tears brimmed on the edges of his eye-lids.

The dolphin moved closer, cautiously, and John shrank back.

_' Hey, it's okay, John, you're not losing it. And neither are you hallucinating. You wanted to know who I am, and here I am. Well, kind of here I am. This isn't my true form, just a fitting one for this locale. Really, I have no true form. I'm what you'd call an honest to goodness free spirit, in that I can become whatever I want. Turn around and see.'_

John hesitated at first, until he heard a kind of croaking bark behind him that sounded nothing like Jim. He whirled around in a splash of water to find an actual sea-lion. He glanced over his shoulder at the dolphin but the dolphin wasn't there. When he returned his gaze to the sea-lion, he was looking at a dolphin again.

_' See?'_

John's trembling increased. The dolphin squealed.

_' John, chill. I'm not going to hurt you, or do anything to you for that matter. You're wandering a little too far from the platform, John, and that ain't safe.'_

John narrowed his eyes suspiciously. " What are you, my guardian angel? What do you want?"

_' From you? Nothing. Actually you wouldn't even be seeing me if your mind hadn't gone haywire and opened up to every creature in the universe that can read minds. Lucky for you the range doesn't go beyond the planet, and thus far I'm the only super-telepath in sight, unless there's some wraith slinking around you don't know about. Now come on, John, go back to the platform, the others are looking for you, and your mind keeps doing the mental twist, which is kind of hard to ignore. Kind of like being shouted at._'

John, his breath coming in shudders, closed his eyes, trying to will the dolphin away.

_' Not that easy John. You've got a problem, and I'm the only one here who knows what it is.'_

John opened his eyes, but the dolphin was still there.

_Ah, screw it!_

_' Good to see you're at least, remotely, starting to come around. Starting. Good enough start though._

" What's wrong with me?"

_' You're sick, John. And yes, the words 'duh' do mean something to me. You need to go back to the platform and wait for someone to find you. When I meant to go for a small swim, I really meant 'small.'_

John shook his head. " No, I can't..."

' _Why?'_

John opened his mouth to reply, but didn't have any words to say.

_Why indeed?_ He couldn't quite explain it. Something about going back felt wrong, dangerous. If he went back, allowed himself to be found, then there would be... pain, terrible pain. There were people, in Atlantis, who would hurt him, because they had hurt him once before. Who were those people? He knew but...

_Rodney? No, that can't be right, he... And Beckett? And Weir? _Their faces flashed into his mind, and with them came remembered pain.

John shook his head in disbelief. " No. That can't be right."

The dolphin clacked its jaws. _' It isn't right, John. Your memories are fractured. Your mind can't stop sifting through them, pulling up the bad. It's just association, John. Your friends would never hurt you.'_

John believed the dolphin, or at least he wanted to. The images, memories, were telling him a different story. Quick as they were, meshed as they seemed, they were too real to just brush aside, and they wouldn't stop coming.

Fear swelled in his chest like a flood of ice. The dolphin rose out of the water, dancing on its tail in agitation.

_' John! Don't! Don't give into that. Hey, look at me! Look at the cute little dolphin doing a cute little trick! Watch John, watch the trick!'_

The dolphin went under, then leaped, spun twice, and plunged back into the water. It leaped again, twisting, and dropping back in. John watched, and the chaos in his mind quieted enough to allow a small sense of awe to slip through, shushing the fear trying to take over.

The dolphin's gray head resurfaced. _' A little better. Not much but... John, you really need to get back. You need help. I suggested you go for a swim to help ease the aches, but this is getting bad. You can't stay in here forever.'_

The thought of going back gave a little extra boost to fear. Memories, disjointed, wild, and frightening, kept tumbling about his mind.

" I – I need to think. Clear my head," he murmured distractedly. He started into another swim, and heard the dolphin follow.

_' Hey -Hey John? Johnny? John-buddy? You really need to get back. Swim times over and if you start to get tired, I can't help you. Not exactly corporeal here, please don't ask me to go into the ramifications of it, but physical contact is way out of my league for the most part. John? Jo-ohn..._

SGA

" These life-sign detectors are useless," McKay grumbled. " They pick up life-signs, not DNA tags. That's what we need, a specified DNA sniffer. An ATA tracker, or just inject a tracking device under John's skin. Where the hell is he!"

He saw Zelenka out of the corner of his eye, rolling his eyes. They were trekking down a corridor bordering near an unexplored section of the city. Rodney's gaze, for the most part, was glued to the life-signs detector, and he was relying on Zelenka to keep an eye on their surroundings.

It had been a half hour since Weir had issued a city-wide search for the Lt. Colonel. Rodney had found the whole situation almost laughable, for a moment. It had felt more along the lines of searching for a petulant child who was hiding so he didn't have to stay couped up in bed because of a little head-cold.

Then Beckett had explained the situation. John wasn't simply 'under the weather'. He was sick, and the fact that they had yet to find him was getting on McKay's nerves.

" I'm sorry but it seems to me that putting the safety of Atlantis in the hands of a ding-bat who goes exploring when he has a supposedly life-threatening illness is poor planning in my book," Rodney grouched.

Zelenka's head jerked back in alarm. " McKay! You are talking about a man who has saved our hides on too many occasions to count. Besides, I don't suppose you heard of a little thing known as delirium? If Sheppard is sick, it might be affecting his mind. He may not have known what he was doing, or where he was going, and so is lost. And this city is vast. I know it is not in your nature, but could you at least express the small amount of the worry I know you must be feeling or you would not be griping more than usual?"

Rodney stopped, and turned his withering stare onto Zelenka. " I am not griping more than usual. I'm griping as much as I usually do."

Zelenka met his gaze. " Fine. But could you at least wait to gripe in private. It is getting on my nerves, and it is also unfair to the Lt. Colonel since he is not here to defend himself."

Rodney turned his attention back to the detector. " Fine, whatever, let's just keep moving."

Rodney wasn't going to admit that Zelenka had a point. Rodney was worried, exceedingly worried since he still felt guilty about what happened to Sheppard in that X-ray device. Though Beckett had assured that the machine was not responsible for the change in the virus afflicting John, he couldn't help feel a small twinge of responsibility. After all, he'd been dragging John from one device to the next when he should have been getting some bed-rest.

Two more blips appeared on the detector other than their own. Rodney slowed, shooting his hand out to grab Zelenka's arm and stop him as well.

" Someone's coming," he announced. " _Two_ – someone's, before you ask."

Sure enough, Teyla and Ronon rounded the corner, heading toward the two scientists.

" Have you found anything?" Teyla asked immediately.

" Does it look like it?" McKay huffed. " You know, I don't know how we're supposed to find him. He could be anywhere. He could be so delirious that he could have taken a jumper and be anywhere on the entire planet, for all we know." He pointed a finger at Teyla and Ronon. " You know what, the minute we find him and bring him back, I'm going to petition we have him tied down. A man with a Kharma as bad as Sheppard's shouldn't be allowed to wander loose _anywhere!_"

Ronon lifted his brow. " Kharma?"

McKay shook his head. " Never mind. Look, since we ran into eachother, we might as well keep looking together. Though I have no idea where to begin looking in this sector."

_' Keep moving north, ding-bat."_

Rodney started at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, and glanced around.

" What?" Teyla asked in alarm, also searching, to which Ronon and Zelenka soon followed suit.

" Who said that?"

" Who said what?" Ronon asked.

" Someone called me a ding-bat. Was it you, Zelenka?"

The timid physicist raised both his hands innocently. " No, of course not."

Rodney already assumed it was neither Teyla or Ronon since both appeared thoroughly confused.

" Okay, um, never mind. Let's keep moving north."

_' Good boy.'_

" Who said that!"

SGA

McKay was getting angry. Someone was talking, but no one would confess to it. Still, directions were directions, so he followed them, hoping beyond hope that Atlantis wasn't haunted after all – and that the ghost didn't have a nasty sense of humor.

They came to a door that slid open on their approach, assaulting them with salty air and sunshine. They stepped out onto a metal walkway with a set of stairs leading down to a metal platform. Ancient writing next to the door translated into something along the lines of 'observation deck', recalling to McKay something in the archives about places where one could go to observe the water up close and also to board submersibles which had yet to be found on Atlantis.

" What is that?" Teyla asked, leaning over the rail of the walkway and pointing down. Rodney leaned in as well, and saw something clinging to the platform. Rodney recognized the dark head and slender form right off.

" Sheppard!" He gasped, eyes going wide, and clattered down the stairs onto the platform. Sheppard's form was motionless, until Rodney neared. John's head lifted, and his eyes snapped wide open in an expression of what Rodney swore was terror. John pushed away from the platform and swam backward as fast as the water would allow, then stopped way too far out for arms reach.

Rodney skidded to a halt right at the edge of the jetty, and the rest caught up beside him to stare quizzically at the Lt. Colonel.

Though John was too far out to reach without going in, he wasn't too far for McKay not to see his various facial expressions all rolled into one; mistrust, wariness, and unease. Rodney gaped.

" Uh, um, John? What are you doing?"

John didn't answer. His eyes darted from McKay, to Teyla, Zelenka, Ronon, then back to McKay, focusing only on him. Rodney shuddered. John's gaze was dark and as penetrating as a knife to the gut. In fact, it was familiar; similar to the looks he gave to those he had no trust in what so ever, and verging on the look he reserved only for the enemy.

It hit Rodney over and over again like a slap – no, more like a punch – and brought to surface his own growing unease.

" John?" Teyla said. " Why are you out in the water? You are ill, you need to come back so that you may rest."

John didn't move except to continue treading water. Then John turned his head. " I'm not going over there. _he's standing right there_!"

Teyla blinked in confusion. " Who is, John?"

" Yeah," McKay piped in. " And who are you talking to?"

John turned his blood-curdling stare back to McKay. " I'm talking to the dolphin. Now, Back off McKay!"

McKay's jaw drop. " Oh my gosh. He is delirious. Hey, Sheppard! Get your skinny butt out of the water before you get even more sick!"

To Rodney's astonishment, John started moving toward the platform, little by little, playing at being cautious. Rodney let out a breath of relief and crouched, reaching out his hand to offer it to John. Then John stopped, mere inches out of reach, half his face submerged. Rodney wrinkled his brow.

" John?"

Suddenly, John lifted his head, and spat a spray of salty water in Rodney's face. Then he submerged.

Rodney jerked back and tumbled onto his butt, spitting and wiping water and saliva off his face with his sleeve.

" Ah, crap, what the...! Why'd he do that! The guy's a blasted wacko!"

Ronon jumped into the water then, also going under, and for a moment everything went quiet. Both Zelenka and Teyla helped Rodney back to his feet. He looked from one to the other, shocked, confused, and a little hurt.

" Wh-What was that for?"

Zelenka looked at Teyla, and Teyla looked at Zelenka, who shrugged.

Suddenly, the water exploded, or seemed to. Both Ronon and John broke the surface, Ronon with his arm wrapped around the Colonel's chest, and John struggling psychotically to break free.

" _Let me go!_" He screamed, elbowing Ronon in the face hard enough to cause blood to spray out his nose, and twisting and writhing until he began to slip from Ronon's hold. The look on John's face made the blood drop to McKay's feet. It wasn't a look of fury, such as what he usually wore when in the middle of a battle. What McKay was seeing now was pure panic, terror, and also pain. When Ronon tightened his hold on the Colonel, John threw his head back, and a scream tore from his throat that made Rodney go cold all over.

" Ronon!" Teyla called, her face almost stark white. " Release him! You are hurting him!"

Ronon slackened his hold, and the moment he did, John slipped out. The runner grabbed the Lt. Colonel's shirt by the shoulder, and John immediately whipped around and slugged the man hard across the face. John was a strong guy, but Ronon was a whole lot stronger, so it came as a shock when the bigger man actually flew back from John's punch rather than his head just snap around. Freed, John submerged and vanished.

Teyla, Zelenka, and Rodney crouched down to haul a bloodied and battered Ronon onto the platform. He lay there for a moment on his back, panting heavily as blood trickled from his mouth and nose down his face. He was also clutching his side with one hand.

" What happened?" Teyla asked as she looked the runner over. Ronon propped himself up with a grimace onto his elbows, and stared out at the choppy water in utter confusion. Rodney gulped.

" Well, no offense," he said to Ronon, " but it seems like Sheppard sufficiently kicked your ass."

" He fought like an animal," Ronon breathed. " I could feel his heart. It was beating hard, fast, too fast. He was frightened."

" He looked to be in terrible pain," Teyla told him.

Ronon looked down, closing his eyes. " I may have caused an injury."

Rodney snorted. " Well what do you call what he did to you?"

Ronon shook his head. " When I began pulling him in, during his struggle, I felt a rib break."

All eyes went out to the water, searching the surface.

" There!" Zelenka cried, pointing right. Rodney stood to see several long meters away a dark head break the surface, only to go under again, then re-emerge a few seconds later. Mckay's mind reeled dizzily in confusion.

" I think maybe we need to use a jumper... and see if Beckett has any tranquilizer darts."

SGA

A/N: Tsk, Tsk – seems Ronon got a little too rough. Sorry if I don't seem to have his character down right. As I said, I only know season one, and what I know of season two I know from the SGA website – and everyone else's stories. I was going to have this tale take place in season one, but for it to have worked I needed every negative experience that could be mustered from every episode.

Oh, and confused yet? More will be revealed about our shape-shifting dolphin soon enough, along with John's condition. John has quite a way with the critters, doesn't he?


	3. Chesire John, aka CJ

A/N: Thanks be to ye for the loverly reviews. John's mental state will now take a mighty plunge. And remember! Said books, shows and songs – not mine!

_I pledge allegiance to Queen Fragg, and her mighty state of hysteria... _- Calvin, from Calvin and Hobbes.

Part three

Cheshire John, aka CJ

_' Jo-ohn... Johnny... Lt. Colonel Sheppard... Atteee-ntion! Damn it.'_

John had to hand it to the dolphin, it was persistent. But since it had admitted to being unable to make physical contact, his fear of the thing had dissipated greatly. He probably would have been annoyed – should have been – but he was being distracted by too much else to feel anything toward the chatty creature.

As long as it didn't hurt him, it didn't matter.

_' Gee, thanks a lot John. Glad to see I make quite the impression.'_

John, clinging for dear life to a piece of metal _something_ sticking out of Atlantis, closed his eyes, shivering. He wasn't cold, just shaken and hurting. The pain was located point blank in his left side, never a good area to have any kind of pain, and it hurt just to breathe. He was forced to take shallow, cautious breaths or the pain would erupt into an agony that snatched the very air from him. He clenched his jaw, and with each stab of pain let out strangled cries and gasps, clenching the metal until it bit into his palm.

_' Crap, John, this is really bad. Here, let me see what I can do.'_

John heard the dolphin squeak and click.

_' Dang, this is tough! Mentally, you're all over the place. Your pain and fear receptors are firing like a freakin' machine gun. No wonder you freaked when the big guy grabbed you.'_

John opened his eyes. Ronon. Was Ronon the enemy?

_No, that can't be... but Rodney isn't supposed to be either... Right?_

_' Yeah, John, that's right. Don't listen to anything else, just that one thought.'_

John tried, repeating it over and over again like a chant. But he was seeing things, recalling things, that were telling him otherwise.

_Just step on the stupid glass... pain, terrible pain... sit in the chair... pain... touch this... pain. That can't be right, that can't be right, that can't be right..._

John was lost in a mire of terrible confusion. He knew with everything he had who his friends were and that none of them would ever hurt him... at least, not intentionally. It was as though there were two separate beings in his mind, one arguing for and one arguing against, tearing at him, pulling him both ways, shoving a jumble of facts into his face until he didn't know what was what. Images – memories, opinions, impressions – flew at him, filling his mind to bursting, only to recede into a lesser assault. It was as though his memories had become a tide or a wave, flowing in to drown him, then rolling back just when he was about to succumb. He could not grasp them, sift them, cling to a single image. They were too much like air.

_' You need to try and focus, John, and not on a single memory. You need to focus on the here and now.'_

The images stopped when the dolphin talked and when the pain hit hard. John's inclination was to try and sort his thoughts the moment his mind quieted, then the attack would happen all over again.

_' It's getting worse. Grrreeaaattt. Just great. Do you know what it looks like to me? Like you're totally tripping on every narcotic imaginable. Let me try the pain thing again.'_

The squeaks and clicks commenced, faster and with great agitation. Soon, the agony ripping at his side began to turn its own volume down to an uncomfortable throb. The dolphin let out a squeaking sigh.

_' Okay, there we go. Sorry it's not much, but it should help you breathe. I'm usually a little loathe about influencing the subconscious, but, hey, dulling pain never does any harm. I'd numb you all together but your brain is kind of acting like congealing mud with all those thoughts; too hard to slog through and reach autopilot. You'd better hope your heart doesn't stop, or you're in trouble.'_

The dolphin was right, breathing was easier. Not only that, the images had stopped.

" What the hell's happening to me?" he rasped, then coughed, enraging the throb.

_' Tricky to say, John. It's never the same twice, although the same things keep happening. I can only tell you what's going on mentally, and that is you're losing your ability to control your own mind. Almost like something else is up there screwing with the controls – thankfully the controls to the thought process and not the controls that really matter – like the ones making your heart beat. Emotion seems to be the trigger. That's why you need to calm down, stop thinking for a moment. Then try not to think of anything that gets you all riled up. I know it sounds like your brain's going all chaotic, but from what I'm seeing, there's method to the madness here. For one, the memories shooting through your skull are all bad ones, and thus you're creating subconscious associations. Something bad happened to you, and your psyche automatically blames whoever was present or involved with that something bad. Like Rodney telling you to step on that X-ray device.'_

At the mention of McKay's name, John shivered.

_' Don't think about why he scares you!' _The dolphin warned. _' The thoughts'll come back, and any emotion you feel will make it worse. You also need to be careful what you feel, or it'll be magnified like the pain. Crap, John, I wish I could explain it better. It's kind of confusing me. I don't even know how it's possible. Mentally, you're clean as a whistle, or would be normally. Something's making you paranoid against your will.'_

Heeding the dolphin's advice, John focused on the dolphin's voice, and the here and now.

" Who are you? What are you?"

_' All in good time, Johnny. You need to get back to the platform. I know you're scared, but you need to ignore that. If you want, once you get to a jetty, I can help you pass out. Then you won't know any better when the others come to get you. Wait... that didn't come out quite right...'_

It sounded unnerving what this mega-psychic dolphin was capable of. John was about to say something to the affect when he heard an all too familiar hum that made his spine go straight and his heart slam. He immediately went under and began to swim as fast as his sore joints would let him, hoping the passing puddle jumper hadn't detected him. Thoughts raced through his mind, thoughts that increased his panic and made him pump his limbs against the ache. He needed a place to hide, any place.

He came upon a kind of narrow platform, too narrow to be a jetty or walkway of any kind, but not so narrow that John couldn't duck under it. He submerged, swimming beneath the thing, then rose up to find just enough space between the platform and water to breathe. He held his breath and listened to the constant hum of the cloaked jumper, fear clouding his every thought.

_They're coming for me. What did I do? I – I don't remember... they're coming... They're furious... _

_'John, calm down. They're not mad, they're worried. They're not hunting you, they're trying to find you, they just want to help...'_

One half of John listened, the other half didn't, and another battle ensued. Then the hum of the cloaked jumper faded away, and with it his panic. It abated enough for the cloud to become a fog, leaving John to mentally stumble in more confusion.

He was afraid.

_What am I afraid of!_

He couldn't say, he just was, and he hated it. It enraged him. He wasn't supposed to be pointlessly afraid. He was a soldier. Fear only came when there was a reason, then it was ignored to be dealt with at a better time. Fear hindered, it harmed, it cost lives. To give in to fear was to fail, and he was giving into it now. He was failing.

" No!" John screamed. He went under, then emerged from beneath the platform. He swam to the surface and turned to cling to that platform, his eyes darting around wildly.

_I'm not giving into fear, I'm being cautious, avoiding the enemy..._

_' No, John...! For the love of sea-bass! Listen to me, John, you're friends are not your enemy. They're not trying to hurt you!'_

John squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the edge of the platform until his fingers hurt.

" I know! I freakin' know! I can't – I can't stop... I can't convince myself... They – hurt – me... Oh gosh, why won't it stop! I can't... Think...! _What's wrong with me! Why am I being like this!_"

Corporeal or not, John could still sense the dolphin's presence next to him.

_' It's all right John,' _the dolphin soothed. _' It's all right. We'll figure this out, or I will, or Beckett _could _if you'd let him. Whatever it is, it's not your fault, that much I can say. You're trying, I see that you are. This is out of your hands.'_

That rekindled the fury. John had no control. He was supposed to be in control. The CO of Atlantis couldn't afford to lose any control at all.

_' You have a little control, John, it's just hard to grasp and hold to. It's still your mind and you still have a say in what goes on. I can help you with that, it's just going to be a little tricky. First off, you need to calm down and try not to think. Or, try to think of stuff that doesn't matter. Think about surfing, beaches, why hot-dogs are so good but made out of crap, pizza, the A-Team (I really digged that show), two trains leave Dallas at six a.m. traveling at speeds of...'_

It was working, because the last bit actually got John to grin. And he liked the _A-Team_ too. Hell, at one time he had wanted to _be_ a member of the A-Team – but so went the ways of youthful fantasizing. He'd also thought it would be cool to be a crew-member of the Millennium Falcon.

_Still do._

_' That's it, John. Let your mind wander on nothingness. The way you handle a jumper, just call yourself Han Solo...'_

SGA

John kept moving, pulling himself along whatever stuck out that he could grab hold of. He no longer had the energy to swim, or even to enjoy the freedom from gravity his bones felt. He was tired, so tired that he didn't even have to concentrate on getting his mind to wander incoherently, it just did.

The dolphin followed, making sure to fill John's head with nonsense so his thoughts didn't flit back to memories or try to fathom his situation. Soon the dolphin began singing, getting songs lodged in Sheppard's brain.

_' We're the piraaaates, who don't do anything...! Ah, forget that, I can't remember the words. You like Magic Carpet Ride? Steppenwolf? You should, it suits you being a fly-boy and all.'_

John smiled wearily. " Yeah, it kind of does." His hand slipped off of what he was holding, and he momentarily went under, resurfacing with a loud gasp.

The light of day was diminishing into dusk, and the air was cooling, brushing John's wet head and arms and awakening him to being cold. He was coughing a little more than what he had grown used to as well, which was reminding him of the sharp pain in his side.

_' Next time you do a kamikaze mission, you should have that song playing. Ooohhh, Some people call me the space cow-boy! Some call me the gangster of looove...! '_

Sheppard managed a small chuckle, then cleared his dry throat, and realized that he was thirsty. " I would ask how you know so much about me, but that would make it a stupid question. Should I be worried that you're learning everything there is to know about earth thanks to me?"

_' Well, actually...'_

The dolphin had yet to get another word out when fiery agony erupted in John's calf to go shooting up his leg. He screamed, jerking his leg away from whatever it was causing the torment. But whatever it was, it was hanging on with the tenacity of a pissed bull dog.

_' Crap! Something's got your leg!'_

And that something was tearing at his leg, John could feel it. Sharp, jagged knives were plunged into his flesh, and that same flesh was being pulled from his body. He screamed, then went under to try and pulled the cause of the pain away. What he saw almost had him gasping in water.

The thing was like a barracuda, but smaller, black, and sleek like a shark. It was jerking back and forth, trying to rip John's leg open. John curled and grabbed the thing's jaws to pry them apart, but the jaws held iron tight as a rusted clamp. Blood clouded the water until the thing became obscured from his sights.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, John saw a flash of amber. Little Jim's form vanished within the crimson mist, and within seconds the pressure on John's leg was gone, as was half the pain. He immediately clawed his way to the surface, and broke through, gasping, choking, and coughing.

Then the pain returned, only this time to his shoulder, and he went under. Another of the little fish beasts was latched onto him with the snout going past John's collarbone and shoulder blade. It jerked, flipping itself, tearing into him until he could feel the teeth scraping his bones. It was hard to hold his breath and fight the need to scream and gasp at the same time. He pulled at the fish, not caring if he tore away his own skin in the process. More blood seeped from him in clouds, surrounding him until he seemed to be swimming in a red ocean.

He saw Little Jim dart within his line of sight and bite the fish, crushing it until the fish released John as it struggled to fight the fate it had nearly reserved for John. Once again, John broke the surface, gasping, clutching his bleeding shoulder. He began swimming backwards, reaching out with the arm of his wounded shoulder until his hand found purchase. Gripping solid salvation, he turned to see himself clinging to another jetty.

He tried to pull himself onto it, digging his fingers into the smooth surface. Strength, however, had abandoned him completely. Blood clouded around him, and he was shaking violently from overwhelming pain and sudden cold. Each breath came and went in liquid rasps, and he felt himself beginning to slip beneath the water.

_' Phew! That was close. Lucky Little Jim didn't need any coaxing. Just shot right off after I told it... John?'_

John snapped from his daze enough to attempt another go at pulling himself onto the jetty, but managed to only pull his head from the water. He felt heavy enough to sink to the bottom, which he knew for a fact was a long ways down.

_' Ah, no, John, don't do this. I can't help you in this arena, not exactly physical here. Just... try to hang on for as long as you can...'_

John heard a squeak, but not a dolphin squeak, and felt something tugging on the sleeve of his shirt. He blinked to clear his eyes of the film trying to cover his vision, and saw Little Jim pulling at him with its mouth.

John had to admit that it was a strong little sucker. He pooled his minuscule remaining energy – which was nothing more than a grain of sand of strength – into his arm and aided Jim in its struggle. He managed to get his chest out of the water, only to slide back in. The only thing Jim could do was keep John's head from going under, but it was enough.

SGA

Beckett craned his neck, trying to keep John in sight as the pilot lowered the jumper down toward the jetty, and did not have to see Ronon behind him to know that he was doing the same. The big man was along for the ride since – from what McKay had told them – they were going to need some heavy muscle just to get John out of the water, as well as to restrain him.

The thought of restraint made Carson nervous, even a little ill, especially since Ronon had informed the doctor that John had been injured during the struggle. John was a strong, healthy man; so either his delirium was that so he didn't know when to stop fighting, or the virus had weakened him in more ways than one. Either way, Carson had a syringe at the ready to sedate John the moment Ronon had the Lt. Colonel out of the water.

Beckett squinted his eyes at something moving in front of John, but lost sight of both it and Sheppard when the jumper finally touched down. The moment the bay doors opened, Beckett, Ronon, and two soldiers hurried out, moving around the jumper to the still form clinging to the jetty, and the second form tugging on John's sleeve. The strange creature, on seeing the frantic humans, released John with a squeak of alarm and dove back into the water. John began slipping, and was about to go under when Ronon caught the back of his shirt and began hauling him up. Beckett then took one of the Lt. Colonel's arms, and a solider the other arm. All three stared in horror at the bleeding wound in John's shoulder, then his leg once that emerged.

They dragged John further onto the jetty, and in all that time the Lt. Colonel had yet to react. They laid him on his chest, and Beckett crouched, pressing his finger's to John's neck, feeling for the pulse that was weak but present. As the two soldiers ran to get a stretcher – assured that their CO was alive – Carson peeled John's wet shirt from his back to locate the injury Ronon had claimed to inflict. Carson found it easily on the Colonel's right side – a massive bruise over a visibly misaligned middle rib.

Carson's heart dropped like a rock into his stomach, and he could actually feel the blood draining from his own face. He had expected the injury to be more along the lines of a slight crack, not a full break. Sheppard was lucky beyond reason that nothing had been punctured.

_Is it just me, or are John's ribs a little too easy to see? Well, he's a slim lad, of course you'd expect to see his ribs. At least a wee bit. But... I think this is different, wee bit more than a wee bit. _

It really was difficult to say with John. He was thin in a healthy, active sort of way, so for him to lose weight wasn't a good thing. It must have been just starting, which was why Beckett had not taken notice of it until now, plus John was always dressed in layers. Easy to hide weight loss under a shirt, jacket, and vest.

" Bloody virus," Carson breathed in frustration. If John was losing weight after only four days of being sick, then the wicked little bug was working fast and furious.

The two men returned with the stretcher and helped Beckett and Ronon to lift the Colonel onto it, gently turning him onto his back. The deep tears in his leg and shoulder were bleeding fresh, and once aboard Carson had Ronon put pressure on the shoulder as Carson tended to the leg. He put a gauze pad on raggedly marred flesh, then began binding it to help slow the bleeding. He heard a squeak, so turned his head in time to see something amber flit into the shadows beneath a seat.

_'Pay attention to the patient, doc.'_

Beckett looked at Ronon. " Did you say somethin'?"

The big man shook his head no. Carson glanced at the soldiers, but they also shook their heads. So Carson shrugged and turned all his focus on Sheppard.

SGA

" Wakey, Wakey John."

Dreams of a kind John had never experienced before crashed through his mentality like an onrushing army going in for the final assault. They were terrible, almost tangible, and he could _feel_ in them. People weren't supposed to feel in dreams. Dreams were nothing more than random, incoherent thoughts that the mind exhibited as it put itself in order – the brain's form of garbage disposal. But with these dreams came moments where he did not know he was dreaming until the very moment when the images shifted. Wraith attacks, malfunctioning machines, mutation, psycho bug from hell, numerous stuns, friends shot dead in the deserts of Afghanistan, bullets tearing through his own body, _fish_ tearing at his body, fights, beatings, broken bones, blood, damaged organs, suffocation, arresting heart – it hurt, it all hurt so much. It refused to stop.

" John! I said wake up!"

John's eyes snapped open and he gasped in a single, ragged breath until his lungs itched and he had to cough. The pain lingered, especially in his side, shoulder, and leg, and panic wrapped a noose around his neck which began to tighten.

" John! Hey John!"

The voice was familiar - it almost sounded like his own. Panting, he forced his eyes up, and nearly choked on air when his gaze met – himself. He was staring at himself leaning casually on the bed rail. John's breath stopped all together.

His image smiled at him. " Relax, John, it's just me – super-psychic dolphin. I got kind of sick of having to put up with the crap going through your head just to talk to you, so picked a form that allowed me to be more _outwardly vocal_, if you get me."

John lifted his head and furrowed his brow in disbelief. His doppelganger appeared combat ready say for the absence of a P-90.

" Believe me, John, the image you see before you is a lot better looking compared to you at the moment."

Shock made John numb to everything around him. Using one arm, he pushed himself up in a sitting position, blankets slipping from his chest, his other arm stiff and useless. He heard, as though from far away, a rapid beeping, which was the only other sound besides his rasping breath. Sitting up hurt, especially in his spine, but he didn't really care at the moment. Staring at himself was starting to make the room spin.

Doppelganger held up both his hands. " John, don't make me say it again. Chill. It is me, watch."

John barely blinked, and his mirror image was gone, replaced by a horse – a white Arabian.

_' Little bird in your brain told me you like horse-back riding.'_

John's jaw slowly fell open. The next he blinked, his doppelganger returned.

" I would have gone for the dolphin, but didn't want to humiliate myself with flopping like a suffocating fish on the floor. Now will you please stop gaping already."

John's jaw snapped shut. " I, uh... Sorry?"

Doppelganger shrugged. " Whatever. Just get used to it already."

John closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep, calming breath, expanding his lungs until his rib hitched and he was forced to exhale sharply. He was trying to clear his head, but instead started shivering. The warmth of the blankets, softness of the bed, and rapidly rising beep of a heart monitor were finally punching their way through to his awareness.

_I'm in the infirmary._ His eyes snapped open, then darted around, and he began to shrink against the pillow.

" John!"

John snapped his head around to look at himself. Doppelganger had his eyes narrowed.

" None of that," he warned. Then his expression softened. " Listen, you're safe. No one's in here at the moment, and even if they were, you'd still be safe. How about we talk about some good books. You're reading that War and Peace, right? Every try any Terry Pratchett, Douglas Adams? They're hilarious."

Now it was John who narrowed his eyes – at himself. _I will positively, absolutely, never get used to this._

" How about we talk about you. Who – what – are you?"

" Still don't trust me, John? Don't really blame you. Caution's practically been pounded into you. Especially now. I'm... kind of hard to explain."

John felt himself sagging forward, so gave up on sitting and lay back down, never taking his eyes from his ethereal twin. " How about a name?"

Doppelganger grimaced and straightened. " Okay, that's not going to be any easier. My name – is more like an image, really. My people usually only communicate through mental pictures, not words. So think about wind blowing through some grass, a falling water drop, and a supernova, and that's my name."

John managed a small, weak smile. " Exploding Wet Grass it is, then."

Doppelganger did another narrow-eyed glare. " _No. _Come on, John, you're usually good at this."

John sighed, rubbed his face, then passed his hand through his hair. " Okay, Bob, Steve, and Jim I used... How about I just call you Cheshire Cat? I mean that's pretty much what you are, except for the cat part."

Doppelganger snapped his fingers and pointed at John. " That can be arranged, but I'd rather talk with human vocal cords."

" Cheshire John?"

A smile slowly spread on Doppelganger's face. " CJ, cool."

" Fine, CJ. Okay, CJ, now for the next part – _what_ are you?"

" I'll tell you what I'm not, and that's an ascended, like that Chaya chick. I mean, maybe at one time my kind was more – solid. But that was way before my time. Me, my kind, we're energy – nothing but. I'm whatever I want to be, whatever _you _want me to be – except female. Even an entity has gender and a little pride. I can appear to who ever I want, in whatever form, and can travel anywhere. Like I told you before – I'm a literal free spirit."

John squinted thoughtfully. " You can travel anywhere?"

" Yeah, and I don't even need a gate. Don't flatter yourself, John, you're not the reason I know about earth. My kind tend to play favorites with planets, and earth happens to be one of the top ten. I've been residing on earth for four hundred years. I stumbled on your Stargate program about three years ago, started checking out the planets everyone was going to, just to see what was interesting. I came to Atlantis a little after you guys did when I heard that archaeologist Daniel dude talking about it and thought 'hey, that place sounds cool'."

John was speechless, but mostly because he had a thousand questions running through his mind. CJ smirked knowingly.

" We normally don't like to make ourselves known, tends to freak everyone out. You pop into a person's house just to have a little fun, and the next thing you know they're calling you a pook and throwing weird plants at you. We can read minds like an SOB and can do a little influencing with subconscious functions, but we can't control a being's mind completely. Normally we make it a point never to invade anyone's mind, including eachother's. We respect privacy. Hell, we normally don't get involved with anything or anyone. One of our laws forbids any influence in mass-being situations, like wars. Too complicated, and things tend to go haywire when you try to impart mass opinion. I wouldn't have started communicating with you if your mind hadn't screamed for the entire planet to hear. But there's no laws against aiding an individual."

John twitched his head, trying to process the information, which in the state his mind was in was like trying to rope in a bull with a piece of string.

" So, um, why, exactly, are you helping me?"

" To turn down the volume in your head, John. Kind of hard to ignore your mental screams for help. It would be cruel, like driving by someone dieing from a hit and run. I may be an expert at minding my own business, but I'm not a cold hearted piece of anti-matter. Besides, you're minds kind of amusing when it's working right."

John lifted an unsteady hand to point it accusingly at CJ. " I thought you said you didn't invade thoughts?"

" We don't invade, but we do take the occasional peek. And like I said, your mind's a massively open book right now. Even an amateur could read your thoughts. Sorry."

" _Why_ is it an open book?"

CJ shrugged. " I don't know. The virus, maybe? Whatever it is, it isn't very pretty. But as long as you stay calm – and distracted – it shouldn't be too bad. It's mostly just fear and pain going off without your permission and at an unnatural rate, and it has a hair-trigger. It doesn't take much for it to go off. You know, it might help if you remained unconscious until this thing burns itself out or the doc finds a cure. It'd probably be a lot easier on you if you did."

John shivered when CJ said 'doc'. Images of Dr. Beckett – standing over him with syringes, scalpels, blood-caked hands, or a defibrillator – popped into his head in a continual stream that had the heart monitor really taking off.

" Uh John?"

John jumped when instead of seeing himself, he was seeing a zebra. Then John's ethereal twin reappeared wearing an apologetic expression.

" Sorry. Though I've gotta admit it's kind of fun trying to figure out what form to pop into next. I..." CJ suddenly dropped his grin and snapped his head around toward the infirmary entrance. CJ's eyes – _John's_ eyes – went wide. " Ah son of a..." he snapped his head back around and crouched to be eye level with John. " Johnny-boy, this is gonna be bad. I need you to focus on me – whatever I become. Don't give in to whatever comes into your mind. You need to _fight_ whatever pops in there. Got it? _Fight_."

John inwardly and outwardly shrank. He was about to ask why when the infirmary doors slid open, and Beckett walked in. The Scottish doctor's gaze went straight to John.

John's heart slammed, his body went cold, and every muscle went stiff as wood.

" John, look at me!" But John couldn't take his eyes off the doctor, who was smiling and approaching. A million images filled his mind to bursting.

_Scalpels, blood, shocks to the heart, blood, pain, broken bones, pain, restraints, blood... " Don't worry John, you won't feel this." Like hell. " Hold him down!" Pain, screaming..._

" Well, glad to see you comin' back round to the land of the living, Colonel..."

Terror filled John, and not even pain could hold him back. He sat up quick as a bolt, then fell off the bed in a mad scramble away from Beckett who halted in total shock. Pain radiated throughout John's back and side, but the moment Beckett moved into John's line of sight, the pain was forgotten and he did another mad scramble to his feet, backing away from Carson.

" John?" Carson said, raising both his hands in placation. He took slow steps toward John, and John took slow steps back, making quick glances around the infirmary for a weapon or a way out. He wasn't going to let Carson restrain him, stick him, drug him, make him weak and vulnerable – cause him pain.

_He knocks me out, and in come the wraith, or the Genii, or the energy shadow, or... or..._

" Or what, John?"

John saw CJ out of the corner of his eye. John – shivering, panting, and about to be cornered by Beckett and a recently arrived nurse – knew better than to give any attention to CJ. CJ was trying to distract him, and the moment that distraction happened, Beckett and the nurse would move in with the sedatives, knocking him out cold and strapping him down; making him utterly helpless for whatever came next.

" It's Beckett, John, the good doctor. When has he ever done the opposite of healing you? Come on, John, focus! Listen to me, look at me!"

CJ became a horse, a black Arabian, and began to rear and neigh, pulling at John's awareness, trying to force him to look away. John's mind spun and his heart hammered so hard that it began to drown out all other sounds. He saw Beckett's mouth move, yet heard no words.

Then John saw it, a table holding a tray of surgery tools, ready for use during emergencies. John lunged to the left and grabbed the bone saw and a scalpel, letting the rest of the tools clatter to the floor. He held both at his sides and positioned his legs in a fighting stance, his back slightly curved in preparation to lunge should anyone come at him. He continued to back away.

The black Arabian began tossing its head. _' Great, now doc's bringing in backup.'_

Sure enough, within minutes, two more nurses rushed in, as well as four soldiers, Teyla, Ronon, Dr. Weir, McKay. They all flowed in, surrounding John, speaking to him with words drowned out by the thundering crash of his heart and the roar of his blood. Each face sent images ripping through him, memories on top of memories, folding and melding to become one vast nightmare. Even Teyla – Teyla who had never hurt him – pulled from John feelings of deep, painful remorse. _He_ had been the one to activate the wraith beacon. _He _had been the one to bring the wraith to her people, to awaken the wraith, cause them to come. _He _was the reason Sumner was dead, and Ford was gone. Seeing Teyla reminded him of it all within less than a second, and the fear it produced was the fear that retribution must soon follow, and that he deserved it.

_' Not true John.'_ CJ's voice, the only voice he could hear above the noise of memories and the noise of pumping blood. Then CJ took on John's form.

" Not true. Listen to me, John. These are your friends. Focus on the part of yourself that knows this."

John tried. He tried to recall good memories, but they didn't seem to be existing at the moment. The knowledge was there, though. The fact that these _were_ his friends was like a whisper haunting his fractured conscious. But it was nothing more than that, a simple fact, like memorizing a history date without ever knowing the importance of that date. Without the memories to back the knowledge, he could not accept it, no matter how much he wanted to.

They were his friends, but he could not remember why.

" You don't need to remember, John. Just accept it. Take control. _Prove _to yourself that they're your friends and put the blades down."

John's head spun, and the world began to tilt, then he saw CJ – _himself_, his own face - in front of him staring back.

_This has to be a dream! Let this be a dream!_

" This isn't a dream, John. They won't hurt you. And I'll make sure they won't even touch you. I'm a pretty good influence when I need to be. Trust me."

John felt sick with terror, guilt, the need to run, the need to fight, and the need to wake up. Survival instincts were screaming at him to do whatever it took to get away – but he didn't want to hurt anyone.

John's back touched the wall. He was cornered, trapped, surrounded on all sides.

" Back off!" he screamed. " _Leave me alone!"_

Everyone stopped, Weir said something, then Teyla, Beckett, and McKay. John coughed, hard, and slid down the wall when the pain of standing finally ripped through the walls of fear. Energy drained from him like water from a broken dam, and he realized that if or when it came down to it, he would be unable to fight.

They had him. It was over. He had given into fear, and failed.

Everyone around him began closing in. John, his legs pulled up to his chest, lowered his forehead onto his knees. He let go of the scalpel, but held onto the bone-saw. He used his freed hand to grip his hair as he began rocking back and forth, and wept in his confusion.

" John?" Weir's voice. He could feel them around him, and they were even closer now. They would take him, sedate him, restrain him, forever have him trapped.

_But they're my friends. _

_No, not anymore... they never really were. Were they?_

" John?" Teyla's voice.

" Sheppard?" McKay's.

" John." Ronon, the man who could snap a bone like a twig.

" Leave him be."

John stopped rocking. That had been Beckett's voice.

SGA

A/N: Mental whumps are fuuuun. And Little Jim will soon reappear.

Small personal insight: I used to watch the A-Team when I was five. It was my favorite show at the time besides the Dukes of Hazzard, but to my chagrin I can't remember a single episode. The whole being a crew member on the Millennium Falcon deal was a fantasy of mine, also from when I was five. Some kids wanted to be super heroes, I wanted to live in the Star Wars galaxy and hang with Han and Chewy.


	4. Shepherd for Sheppard

A/N: Beckett's mice are cute. I want one!

I'm suppose I'm naughty for not mentioning all the spoilers. But I pretty much assume I'm the only one the episodes are being spoiled for since I've yet to see most of them. Hmmm, how strangely ironic.

Part Four

A Shepherd for Sheppard

_' X-rays, Beckett. Think of the X-rays.'_

Strange how the voice sounded like John when John was gradually sinking into a total mental meltdown in front of everyone. But the voice, or whatever it was, was making a good point.

_' You know he's harmless doc. He's sick, he's weak... You think he's happy about that? Give the poor man some space. He ain't going anywhere any time soon.'_

_Bloody freakin' hell._ Carson wasn't sure whether or not to be worried. He was hearing a voice, but it was making sense.

Carson had taken X-rays of John while the Lt. Colonel was out cold from blood-loss and sedatives. What Carson found on the ghostly images of the man's bones was – to put it mildly – odd. To put it more accurately – disturbing.

Right now, trying to restrain John would be exceedingly hazardous for his health, and Carson didn't want to see him in any more pain.

" Let him be," he said resignedly. Every eye turned to him, every expression one of disbelief.

" What!" McKay barked.

Carson stared at John's huddled form that had stopped rocking and gone perfectly still say for the constant shivering. He kept clutching his hair like a man trying to cling to anything within reach and hold on. It practically ripped Carson's heart from his chest to see it, and made his stomach flip. A pale, frightened, weak, shattered John Sheppard was a hard reality to swallow. It was like watching the reverse of when John was mutating into that bug-thing, and a part of Beckett was tempted to ignore John as John and refer to him as a 'creature'. John's panic had been like the panic of an animal – a dying animal, failing in the fight before ever being given the chance _to_ fight.

Rage waltzed with pity in Beckett's chest. _Bloody blasted virus! It's beatin' him down._

' _That's it, doc. Lay on a little salvation.'_

" I said let him be!" Beckett snapped. " Everyone just back away. You're not helpin' the lad by crowdin' him, you're only makin' his agitation worse. He's ill, he won't be doin' anyone any harm. So just step back."

Beckett's authority as a doctor had a way of holding the same potency as the authority of a general (say for the Lt. Colonel, of course). Everyone began to back away from John, though the soldiers and Ronon were eying John in the manner of those watching for the moment when they could pounce.

" Do – not – touch – him," Beckett emphasized, staring hard at each soldier and Ronon, completely ignoring the fact that physically he was nothing even remotely intimidating to these men. But he was the doctor, and as the doctor he knew what was best.

" Just move away, out of sight..."

" Are you sure that is wise, Dr. Beckett?" Teyla asked.

Carson nodded. " At the moment, Aye. Besides, I've got something I need you all to see."

He had the nurses and soldiers leave the infirmary so that it wasn't so crowded, and to allow John even more space. Sheppard was still huddled tight, but the grip on his own hair showed signs of loosening its death hold. Carson ushered the rest to the other side of the infirmary, away from John's line of sight. The Scott paused and turned back only to remove a blanket from off one of the beds and gently set it down within reach of the Lt. Colonel, who flinched at Carson's presence.

" Easy John. Just in case you're cold." Carson then backed away slowly to join up with the rest. He took a large manila folder from off one of the work tables and pulled out an X-ray of John's left-side ribcage, slapping it onto the lighted board. He tapped his knuckle on the broken rib that had nearly snapped John out of a heavily drug-induced sleep on realignment.

" You see that? Not the break, but around it. And here too." He wrapped his knuckle on another rib.

Weir shook her head. " I don't know what it is we're looking for."

Feeling the heated onset of frustration, Beckett pulled out another X-ray, this one of John's leg, and slapped it onto the board. He then pointed to a dull patch on the leg, not quite as bright as the surrounding bone.

" What you're looking at is a lack of proper bone density. Normally when you have a lack of bone density, it's over the entire bone, not in patches. The area around the break on John's rib was the same. The patches are everywhere - including his back. The cartilage isn't faring too well either. It's almost as though he's showing early signs of arthritis. Add to that aching muscles, and once the medication wears off, Sheppard's going to be in a lot of pain. That's why I think it's better that we just let him be for now. Post guards at the doors to prevent him from wanderin' off, but let him alone until we can figure this thing out."

Every face was pale, save for Ronon's, but his expression was dark.

" I could have killed him," he rumbled. Carson shrugged helplessly.

" There was a chance, but it may not have been as bad as it is now."

" Is it the virus causing this?" Weir asked in wide-eyed disbelief.

" I've no doubt. And I've no doubt it's what's been affectin' his mind. But if we try to restrain him, we'll only be addin' to his injuries. I think it's enough to just keep him in the infirmary where I can keep an eye on him. I really don't think he'll be any harm, even to himself."

McKay stared white faced and slack-jawed at the X-ray. " It's like a bunch of _termites_ are eating at him. So what you're telling us is that he's pretty much like fine china? Hands off?"

Carson sighed heavily. " Aye." The notion of a frail John Sheppard was as unnatural as it was unsettling, and a shared sentiment among the team. McKay may have liked to lay the label of Superman on himself, but John had always been the one who seemed made of steel.

Not anymore.

" Have you discovered anything else about this virus, Dr. Beckett?" Weir asked next.

At this, Carson raised his brow. " Actually, I did discover something that may be of interest, but I've no way to fully test it. I tried giving the virus to some of the mice – two with the gene and two without. The virus died immediately once placed into the mice without the gene, but lingered in the two carrying a small sample of the gene."

" So you think the Ancient gene as something to do with it?" Weir asked next.

" Maybe even a lot to do with it."

At this, McKay blanched. " You're saying everyone with the gene is at risk of catching this thing!"

" Actually, no. I said the virus lingered. The mice began gettin' the symptoms of a cold, then the virus just – burned out. I think it depends on how pure the gene is. I doubt you'd even catch the bloody thing, McKay. I haven't even caught it m'self yet, but considering my possession of the gene isn't quite up to par with Sheppard, the worse I'd get would be congestion. John's gene has a stronger presence in his genetic structure, so the virus – I suppose you could say – has more to _feed_ from, if that's what it's doin'. The only setback is, I don't know how much longer it'll last, and what damage it'll do as it progresses. Plus, considerin' John's mental state, I don't know how I'll be able to help him."

Weir folded her arms across her chest and chewed her lip thoughtfully. She then glanced over her shoulder in John's direction and sighed. " Keep working on this thing." She then looked at McKay. " See if you can find anything in the data base that might mention this virus or something like it."

McKay jerked his head in a nervous nod. " Right. If it affected the Ancients, then it should be somewhere in the archives."

Weir then looked back at Beckett. " You may need to set up shop elsewhere. I still don't trust this virus and would like to have the Lt. Colonel quarantined."

Carson inclined his head. " Aye, I can do that."

" Good. For now... I guess we just give John his space."

" Can we not stay?" Teyla asked. " Try and talk with him? Perhaps he would not be so overwhelmed if we approached him one at a time."

Weir looked at Beckett. It was all his call now.

" We might try that, but not right now. Sheppard needs what rest he can get."

With that said, Beckett herded them out of the infirmary, single file. Every head turned on John's direction. The Lt. Colonel was still in his usual spot but with the blanket around his shoulders and his head lifted to regard his friends with cornered-animal wariness. He continued to clutch the bone-saw, and the way he was wavering he looked about ready to topple at any moment.

Once the rest of the team were gone, John's piercing gaze switched directly to Beckett. The LT. Colonel's face was twitching with pain he sucked at concealing. Carson knew that the floor had to be hell to sit on. He went over to the nearest bed, stripped it off the blankets, then dragged the mattress over to the wall near Sheppard. John, tensing, scooted away from Carson.

" Easy, lad," Carson quietly said. " That floor won't be doin' your bones any good. If you're gonna keep vigil, you could at least do it on somethin' soft."

Carson dropped the mattress and slowly backed away. John's wild, empty eyes followed his every step. The man was wound tight enough to snap, and Beckett did not want to be within range of that saw when it happened.

" You're all right, John. No one's going to hurt you." Beckett quickly moved to where he was out of John's sight. He heard John cough, gasp, then cough some more, and it made Carson's skin crawl. He had what John needed to clear up the congestion, but knew John would never touch the stuff if Beckett tried to hand it to him. If anything, he'd probably use it as a weapon and throw it at Carson.

It made him wonder with growing unease how he was going to get John to eat.

_' Leave that to me, doc.'_

Beckett's shoulder's sagged, and he shuddered. The voice sounded way too much like John.

" I think I'll test my blood again."

SGA

Zelenka wasn't in much of a state of mind to eat. News of Sheppard's retrieval, his supposed madness, talk of a mind-altering and bone-gnawing virus, and McKay's extra helping of irritability had melted together into one, massive onslaught of uneasiness. McKay had assured everyone in the lab that the virus wasn't anything to be concerned about (though the conviction behind the words was lacking). Yet McKay had made similar speeches concerning devices that had ended up exploding in their faces or sending whoever activated them (namely Sheppard) into a world of hurt.

So though Zelenka headed toward the mess, he doubted he would stay for very long, or eat all that much. He felt bad for Lt. Colonel Sheppard. The man attracted more trouble than a stray dog attracted fleas. What was worse, the rumor mill had already started its incessant grind. Zelenka had just passed two soldiers talking in low tones about how, apparently, the Colonel had tried to kill himself and everyone in the infirmary. Zelenka knew the rumor wasn't true, since McKay had told the story straight in his snippy attempt at getting the situation – as well as pent up emotions – off his chest. No suicide attempt had been forth coming, but McKay's description of the event had left Zelenka a little shaken himself.

Zelenka liked John well enough. The Colonel had patience to spare, and treated everyone pretty much the same. His laid back manner made him easy to be around, and his verbal battles with McKay were more amusing than Zelenka ever let on. No one could deflate McKay faster than John. There had been many occasions when Zelenka had wanted to pat John on the back for it.

Now John was sick, possibly dying, and definitely mad. Or at least that's how McKay had put it. It was hard to imagine, and depressing to contemplate. Zelenka just hoped the rumor mill didn't mutate into a joke factory at John's expense.

Zelenka was alone in the corridor, and the silence sharpened even the smallest sound. He heard a kind of high-pitched grunt and a strange, light clatter like small claws clacking on metal. He slowed and strained his ears to determine the location of the noise, contemplating rats – giant, Atlantis born sea rats - then halted when the source came scurrying around the corner of the corridor.

The amber otter/seal-thing half slithered and half scampered over the smooth metal floor, making small grunting sounds as it went. It gave the suddenly rigid Zelenka a brief glance without stopping, then moved on. Zelenka watched it until it vanished around the next corner, then spat out a series of curses in his native tongue.

SGA

CJ paced behind Weir, wrapped safely in the cloak of illusion though he was still wearing John's form. It was much easier to pace when in human form.

The woman was feigning at keeping busy by looking over reports, but hadn't switched the first one she'd picked up in over an hour. Elizabeth was scared – for John, for Atlantis – but that emotion was a no-brainer. Of course she was scared. She had a possible contagion making itself comfy in her city, and the man she relied on to keep Atlantis safe was suffering with no way of doing anything about it.

But beneath the obvious emotion was another emotion CJ felt like a secondary ripple in already churning water. Weir was feeling guilty. It wasn't anything new. According to the replay of her memories, guilt popped up often like an unwanted jack in the box every time something happened to Sheppard. The emotion was so ingrained in her that she never gave it any real attention except to question herself on whether she had done the right thing on asking Sheppard to come to Atlantis. Yes, the choice had been his, but according to her mind she had dogged him into it, spurned by her blinding desire to have someone with Sheppard's abilities on board the project, while not giving the man behind the gene any real consideration.

CJ knew what he was seeing wasn't the truth. According to Sheppard's memory replay before the paranoia became all-consuming, Weir had given Sheppard the opportunity to think on it – even _insisted_ that he do so. And in that time she had never hounded him or prodded him toward favoring going, not in any form or fashion.

But guilt tended to be a one sided little witch, and when fed enough could distort minute perceptions. If Weir could only have read minds, then she could see that Sheppard was actually happy on Atlantis. He liked the adventure, the chance to prove himself, the opportunities to do right. The only setback was his occasional feelings of being out of place since his knowledge of the Stargate program had been so last minute. Then there was the self-opinion of him being a lab rat, but CJ couldn't blame him. Having a more pure form of the gene had indeed made him too much of a target for all the science geeks around Atlantis.

CJ wasn't hanging with Weir to play hidden shrink with her, however. Being the head honcho of Atlantis, CJ had taken a little peek into her thoughts, and didn't like what he was seeing.

Weir had doubt. Even with Sheppard quarantined in the infirmary and Beckett's assurance that contagion was minimal, she was still uncertain. CJ couldn't fault her for it. She had an entire base to consider, and just because some didn't have as much gene power as Sheppard didn't mean the virus wouldn't have any nasty affects on them.

Her options were minimal. Set up some kind of shield to prevent the spread of the disease, keep him locked up until it passed, or send him off world until it passed. She sure as hell wasn't going to send him back to earth, that was a given. But neither was she comfortable with the virus' presence, which meant that to ensure the safety of the rest of Atlantis, she would have to do things to Sheppard that would become a banquet for the guilt.

It made CJ cringe. Whatever her decision, no matter how she executed it, it would only do to back up John's terror. CJ could hear the fractured memories and the horrors they created ringing in his own consciousness – a distant scream for help.

CJ was finding himself in a bind. Involvement with the affairs of corporeal beings always veered toward the complicated. Even appearing to a sinlge physical entity, even if that entity kept its mouth shut, was one too many. More than one, and the next thing CJ knows, they're either drawing runes, casting spells, or praying to him. In the case of the Atlantis folk, they would probably want a way to contact him for future help, and that was just plain old breaking the law.

CJ wouldn't just leave John to his fate, though. The mental screams of a cracked mind would haunt him for the next twenty-thousand years. CJ knew well enough. The last guy he had started to help then quit when the man wouldn't stop calling him the fairy king still echoed in his memory. Not too bad, though, since he hadn't liked that guy much. But he liked John. The human had a good heart, a good mind, and a wide capacity to except the weirdest of the weird with good-natured aplomb. He didn't deserve to be turned into a basket case.

So, unlike Weir, CJ had only one real option. Since Sheppard couldn't recall why his friends were his friends, then it was up to his friends to remind him. Thus, it was up to CJ to get them to realize what they needed to do – as well as _not_ do, such as locking him up or sending him away to a strange place.

But first he needed to check on John and see if he'd finally taken to using the mattress. It was hard to convince him to do anything with the idea of everything being a trap fogging his brain.

CJ was back in the infirmary faster than a human could blink. Most of the medical equipment had been removed except for the stuff Beckett needed to study the virus. He was leaning over a microscope even now, moving his lips without speaking out loud. He lifted his head momentarily to replace the slide he had been looking at, then ducked his head back to the eye-piece.

CJ turned and walked over to Sheppard. He smiled on seeing the Lt. Colonel on the mattress, curled fetal-position style beneath the blanket. John looked like death's very own doppelganger – pale, sunken eyed, and his face shining with sweat. Fear had taken the fight out of him, and even with his eyes partially open and his hand loosely holding to the bone saw, he was about as much of a threat as a baby turtle. His breath kept rattling in his lungs, both on intake and exhale, which led to fits of half-hearted coughing.

John was worn to the last; hungry, thirsty, and hurting everywhere. CJ didn't have to poke into his mind to know it. Exhaustion was pouring off of John in waves.

CJ plopped down on the corner of the mattress by John's feet hidden under the blanket.

" Is he still there?" John asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

" The doc? Yeah. He's working on finding you a cure."

John lifted his head to look at CJ, his white face a practical tragedy mask.

" I can't do it. I can't..."

" See past the fear?"

" Yeah..."

" And the guilt?"

John nodded weakly.

" That's because you're doing it by yourself, John. I don't think this is something you can do on your own."

" You're helping me."

CJ shook his head. " That's not what I mean, John. I'm still kind of a stranger here so it's not like your mind's going to just take my word for anything. The help you need is a little reinforcement to bolster that shrinking but nagging feeling that these people _are_ your friends. You need to _let_ them help you, John."

John, unable to hold his head up any longer, dropped it back onto the mattress. " Okay. So how do I do that without freaking and shifting into blood-lust mode?"

" Well, I think you're going to have to leave that to me. All you have to do is keep yourself from throwing that saw at someone's skull. You think you could do that?"

Sheppard actually managed to produce a small, wan smile, which seemed hopeful enough. " CJ, I couldn't throw a snot rag two inches across the floor right now."

CJ smirked. " All right then. Guess this would be as good a time as any to get this party started."

Fear rippled like a wave of ice off of John. " No, wait... You're going again?"

CJ couldn't help feeling a twinge of pride tangled with a twinge of humility at John's trust. Granted it was the child-like trust of a man terrified who didn't want to be alone with the thing that scared him, but CJ's kind had never had an easy time at winning any form of trust – at least with adults. Kids took to entities like they were candy, since imaginary friends were all the rage on just about every world in every galaxy.

" Actually I'm just going to have a little heart to heart with our buddy Beckett. So I guess you could say that I'll just be right around the corner."

The fear pulled back like a waning tide, and CJ could sense small ripples of relief seeping in.

" Now," CJ began, folding his arms. " How should I go about doing this?"

SGA

John was mumbling, or talking to himself. Whatever the case, Beckett hoped it was occurring in John's sleep, and had nothing to do with John talking himself into making a final assault in an act of gaining freedom. That bone-saw was sharp. Carson knew well enough since he'd been the one to recently sharpen it.

Carson slipped another slide into the microscope and placed his eye against the eyepiece. He was subjecting various samples of the virus to various chemicals and drugs such as penicillin. True it wasn't bacteria he was dealing with, but even viruses had their weakness, and if the results were nothing more than the virus being weakened rather than destroyed, it was good enough for Beckett. John's body could handle the rest.

What Beckett really needed to be doing was to find a way to get John to eat and swallow a few vitamin D tablets without the food ending up all over the infirmary floor. The man was going to need every iota of calcium he could get, or the next time he stood up his legs would snap like twigs out from under him.

" Bloody virus."

John's ancient gene was getting to be a curse.

Beckett lifted his eye away from the scope. He rubbed both eyes using his fingers and thumb, then rolled his shoulders. With a slight jolt, he realized that the infirmary was dead silent. For the past hour he'd been fighting off the urge to take a little peek at Sheppard and see how he was doing. The dread of having a bone-saw thrown at him had aided his endeavor, but the sudden silence was demanding. Carson said a silent, begging prayer that John was asleep. Stiffly, he turned, and crept like a parent going to see if their child had finally fallen asleep.

_A child capable of slicing my head off with one swing._ Carson gulped fearfully, and slowed when Sheppard's corner came into view.

John was curled corpse-still on the mattress and beneath the blanket pulled up to below his shoulders. His arms were limpidly draped over the edge of the mattress with one hand still clinging to the saw, and his eyes were unfocused as they stared at some invisible speck hovering in the air.

Carson shivered. Cadaverous; the word was starting to fit John a little too comfortably. Even lying down, John's scrub shirt hung loose like shedding skin that couldn't be discarded. The deep rise and fall of John's flank and chest, plus an occasional blink, were the only movements the man made, but enough to dispel the momentary dread that John – in fact – had become an actual cadaver.

Carson shook his head. John looked tired, the kind of tired between wanting to run into the open arms of total exhaustion, but just standing there because it wasn't safe to sleep. Carson knew it would piss John off, but the doctor was overwhelmed by pity. Subdued and small was how John was appearing. Weak and helpless - like a sedated mental patient.

_That alone must be torturing John. The lad would skin me alive if he knew I was thinkin' that way._

Carson backed away before John took notice of him, and turned to head back to the table.

Carson's heart scrambled into his throat and he faltered to go stumbling onto his butt when he found himself facing... himself.

" Best not think that way about our boy then, Carson."

Beckett stared up at himself, and his self smiled back down at him. Carson cringed.

" Ah Bloody hell, no. Oh no, I've caught it. I've caught the virus."

Carson number two looked up over Carson one's head toward John. Suddenly, so fast that Carson nearly missed it, Carson-two's form seemed to shimmer, fizz, then coalesce to become John dressed in battle gear.

" Hey John, Carson thinks he has the virus."

" Tell him not to think," came sick John's weak, raspy, non-committal reply.

Beckett's head snapped back and forth between the two John's so rapidly that darkness hovered on the edge of his vision when the blood started rushing to his skull. John's healthy form shimmered and fuzzed again to reform into Carson two, then raised both hands.

" Easy, lad. No need to fret. As you can see, we have a mutual friend in John. And seein' as how your not pickin' up scalpels, backing into corners, or hackin' up a lung, I think it would be safe for you to assume that you're not sick."

Carson began blinking rapidly. " wh-wha- wha..."

Carson two put his hand on his chest. " Call me Ishmael. No, don't, not really. Call me CJ, actually. John came up with it. Well, he came up with Cheshire John, but CJ's a lot shorter."

" Wh-who-what-who...?"

" A friend, Carson. A friend of John's and a friend of yours. Just a friend. I'd explain myself to ya... but I don't want to. Better things to do and all." CJ then crouched to be eye-level with Carson. " Listen, doc. I can help you get John to eat. You get the food, I'll do the convincin'. He needs the strength if he's goin' to fight this bug you seem to have termed the Bloody Virus. You can gape, stutter, gawk and question your sanity later, but right now you need to focus on helpin' John. If we work together maybe we can see abut givin' him somethin' for the pain. It's really gettin' bad. Don't be surprised if he starts moanin' and groanin' soon. And I'm not some bloody Ascended, so stop thinkin' that. And don't you dare call me a pook!"

Carson pushed himself numbly to his feet despite how uncooperative his brain was being. " Uh – I uh..."

CJ also rose. " Food, Carson, then we'll talk about what's goin' on and how you're not goin' mad."

Carson managed to get his head to jerk up and down in a nod. He turned like the obedient robot he seemed to have become, and found himself to be moving toward the doors to the infirmary.

" Relax, Carson. Think. If John saw me – mental deterioration aside – and you don't have the virus symptoms, then how could this possibly be a mass hallucination?"

Sounded logical enough, but shock wouldn't even give logic the time of day at the moment.

SGA

Carson was amazed he hadn't dropped the food on his way back. He felt jumpy as a wound toy and every voice, touch, or noise made his heart slam into his sternum. But not all his nerves, nor wits, were shot to hell. On reaching the mess hall he had mind enough to pick foods either rich in calcium or easy on the digestion. It was a ladened tray that caused Beckett nothing but grief as he tried to carry it and when every eye in the mess turned his way – until he turned to face everyone and explain that it was for John.

" Lad's hungry," he said with an abashed smile and slight shrug. But the explanation was accepted and everyone went back to their meal.

In all likely-hood, John would barely touch a thing, but Carson saw no harm in playing it safe should the opposite prove fact.

On entering the infirmary, Carson managed one final feat of keeping the food on the tray while jolting in alarm.

John was sitting on the corner of the mattress, talking to John curled beneath the blanket.

Carson cleared his throat. " Um, CJ, is it? I've got the food here."

John – the real John – attempted to push himself up on trembling arms, but only got as far as his elbows. Still, it amazed Carson that he was able to hold himself up for so long. Then again, fear was a natural – if temporary – muscle enhancer.

" Easy John," CJ said, then looked at Carson. " Come in close, set it on the floor, then _carefully _slide it toward John."

Carson, feeling a bit shakey, nodded and approached John's little nook in a slight crouch. It reminded him too much of approaching a bristling dog, and it sickened Beckett how wrong it was. John was his friend.

" It's not his fault, doc," CJ said. " It's the virus. It's screwing up his mind, making him paranoid. But you already know that."

Beckett set the tray down five feet from John, and nodded.

" Aye, that I do." He pushed it forward, little by little. Milk from the tall, fogged glass sloshed over the rim and pooled along the upturned edges of the tray. When the tray was within John's reach, Carson lifted both his hands and slowly backed away.

John kept his wild, unfocused gaze on Carson with a penetration that made Beckett's skin prickle. The man was a trained soldier – trained to kill – and was regarding Beckett as one of the enemy. Another gut-churning bout of fear-induced sickness made Carson want to turn and leave.

" None of that, doc. You need to stay. You need to talk to John, help me convince him to eat. He thinks you might have spiked the food with sedatives. And don't worry about the saw. He can hardly lift his own arm right now. Got a straw?"

" On the tray."

CJ grinned. " Good. Now sit, get comfortable. This may take a while."

Beckett knew by eying John that if the Lt. Colonel had the strength, he would have bolted – or attacked. Carson wasn't sure which. It almost seemed like both, switching rapidly back and forth, with a little confusion squeezing in between. John was shaking with the effort of holding himself up, so finally lowered himself back onto the mattress, twisting his face in pain and gasping for breath.

Carson wrinkled his brow in worry. He lowered himself to the floor and folded his legs Indian-style. " You need to eat, John."

John narrowed his eyes. " What did he do to it?"

" What?" Carson asked.

" Nothing," CJ replied. " He didn't do anything to the food, John. Hey Carson, tell him about that time you brought him back to life when his heart had to be stopped to get rid of that bug. Or how about when he broke his leg off world, and you refused to set the bone until you could find some way of dulling the pain. Better yet, talk about the good times. Got any good times to share?"

Carson swallowed and twitched a weak smile. " Well, I wouldn't call all the times I've had to hunt the Colonel down because he didn't know when to listen to me _good_. He's not particular with doctors, I got that the first time I treated him, and that was for an _actual_ cold. I couldn't even _bribe_ him to get bed rest."

John showed no signs that what Beckett had just said got through.

CJ nodded. " Good. What else? And tell it to John."

Carson shifted to get more comfortable. " Well, back when you were the major and not a Lt. Colonel, Colonel, you had me analyze some green stuff that turned out to be silly-putty. You said it'd been found slidin' about Atlantis, then just stopped movin'. The whole time I was lookin' at the stuff, you were tellin' me about the movie The Blob, then scared the hell out of me when you said you saw the putty twitch. You couldn't stop laughin' your ass off about it. Of course, thinkin' back on it now, it was pretty funny. But what was funnier was when you did it to Rodney. That had me hurtin' I was laughin' so hard. You've a twisted sense of humor, John, but if it wasn't for that humor I think we'd all gone stir crazy about now. You have a way with keepin' everyone grounded, on the level. You might say you remind us to laugh now and then, which is pretty much the same as remindin' everyone to breathe in my book."

A change in John's demeanor was finally forthcoming. His wariness was flickering, weakening into confusion as Carson's words sunk in to be processed within the chaos of John's muddled brain.

" Keep talking," CJ urged.

" I don't know what's goin' on in your head to make you afraid of us. We'd never hurt you John. If we ever had, it was unintentional, especially on my part. You know me, John. I _hate_ causin' anyone pain. You know how it tears me up inside. It's why you frustrate me sometimes. You never listen, then you get hurt, and sometimes there's nothin' I can do to eliminate the pain – like now. I don't like that you're hurtin' John, and I'd like to help if you'd let me."

" Because he's saved your life too many times to count, right doc?" CJ said.

Beckett leaned forward. " Aye, exactly! John, where would you ever get the idea that we would harm you?"

CJ grimaced. " If you could see what I see, doc, you'd understand. He can't help it, he really can't. But he's trying to fight it. That's why you need to keep talking to him."

Carson nodded. " You know, this kind of reminds me of when you were changin', becomin' like a wraith. You were pretty scared then too. I mean, not quite like now. I didn't understand what was goin' on then either. Still, I did everythin' I could to help you then. Don't you remember John?"

" His brain won't let him," CJ explained. " But it's there, he knows it is, he just can't bring it up."

Carson jerked his head back in shock. " This bug some kind of bloody organic computer virus? Why's it screwin' with his mind?"

CJ shrugged. " You're the doc, you tell me. I can't read germ-minds. Too tiny."

Carson shook his head. " Never mind. Anyway, I know you know I'm tellin' the truth, John. I've only ever helped ya. And that's all I'll ever do. If I wanted to hurt you, you'd be strapped to a bed, sedated up to your scalp. But I swear I won't do that to you, John. You're safe in here. I won't even force you to eat if you're not up to it. It goes against every fiber of my bein' to do it, but I'll relent to it if you don't trust me."

John raised himself back onto his elbows. His confusion became a visible struggle, one that Carson could swear was hurting him. In John's eyes was a fathomless ocean of sorrow, pouring out a silent plea for help, for understanding, for forgiveness. The depth of it struck Carson with a stunning blow, sending Carson' heart plummeting and his mind teetering over the precipice into his own confusion.

" I..." John began. His arms were shaking. His whole body was shaking. He was shrinking back but trying not to, and from the way his eyes squinted and widened, Beckett knew John was battling things out on the inside.

" Come on, John," CJ said. " Spite the little SOB organic computer virus."

" Do you want me to leave, John?"

John swallowed hard, then reluctantly shook his head. He reached out with a tentative, shaking hand until his fingertips made contact with the tray, and pulled it to him. The effort nearly knocked him out, and he dropped back down onto the mattress. But he kept moving, picking up the straw on the side of the tray and plunking it into the milk. After that, he was done.

" I'll get to it," he panted. " I promise." He then looked at Beckett, and did another nervous, pain-filled swallow. " I'll trust you - whether I like it or not... doc," he rasped, and Beckett had the impression that the words had been the hardest thing for John to have ever said. If Beckett hadn't known any better, he would have been crushed. But he knew better, so instead smiled.

CJ grinned and winked. " Stellar bed-side manner doc."

SGA

A/N: Now on to Rodney! Boy, that's gonna be a challenge. Will Rodney make things worse, or establish his own breakthrough with John? Will CJ's appearance as a Doppelganger McKay scare the crap out of Rodney? (well, duh.) Will John manage to gather his sanity enough for at least one little sarcastic remark? And what of Little Jim? Who will he freak out next? All these questions and more will be answered in... the next chapter.

FYI for those who don't know – a pook is a spirit from Celtic legend that either takes on the form of an animal, or can take on various forms of animals. At any rate, it's pretty much a shape-shifting spirit and pesky as all crap. I've done a lot of stories involving pooks.


	5. Come Out and Play, McKay

A/N: New chapter just for everyone, Merry Christmas to all! I was quick about putting this one up. So if you find spelling mistakes and such, that's why.

Okay, I think this story's going to end up longer than I anticipated. I actually didn't do an outline for it. It was going to be a one-shot, then became two chapters, then three... You get the idea. I wanted to leave it open to allow for anything to happen, and I see that it's working. Thus far, I'm rather pleased with the direction it's going. I love mental whump. Brings out emotions without resorting to fluffy mush, and kicks the angst to a mighty high level. Now, McKay, do you have what it takes to convince Sheppard that you're not out to kill him? Watch it, boy, he's still got the saw.

Part 5

Come Out and Play, McKay

Kate Heightmeyer couldn't help it. She wasn't a big fan of gossip, but she had to admit that it held a certain amount of psychological intrigue. Facts never stayed straight on a rumor chain but it had a way of opening people up without them realizing it. People took sides whether intentional or not, and from all the talk going on Kate was able to determine who stood where concerning Lt. Colonel Sheppard and his mind-altering illness. She had yet to dispense any overheard facts to others, and planned on never doing so. But listening in sparked a small twinge of guilt in her, as though she were supporting the chain when she should be trying to break it.

_Rumors never break, they just become altered._ Thus her guilt was minimal.

What was not minimal was her rising annoyance at the disrespect some people held for the Colonel. Some of the scientists, for the most part, as well as a few soldiers. She overheard them in the corridors, and was hearing them now in the mess hall as she ate a breakfast of eggs easy over and toast. They were spouting jokes and laughing loud – one table of three scientists, another table with four military.

" If the Colonel's got some freakin' disease then why don't they quarantine him? Screw the whole delicate... mental-crap thing. The guy's a health risk."

" ... I passed the infirmary. Could have sworn I heard him sobbing like a baby. _Oh Teyla, hold me that I may wipe snot on your vest_..."

That one got a few snickers, but a lot more glares from the rest of the mes-hall residents.

" No, no, no... more like _Owe, doc, please don't hurt me, I hate needles!"_

Snickers became raucous chuckles.

" Freakin' wuss..."

Kate dropped her fork and opened her mouth for the nastiest retort he could think of. She was beaten to the punch when Sgt. Stackhouse and seven other soldiers all stood to tower over the insubordinates and scientists.

" Shut the hell up, Mannings, or I will report your ass so fast it'll fall off!"

" Report to who, the invalid?" someone murmured, but the source of the comment was lost in the masses.

" Who the hell said that?" Lt. Johanson – one of the seven – snapped, glancing around.

Angie Bowmen, one of McKay's many verbally tortured assistants, tossed her fork on her tray with a clatter. " What the crap is wrong with people. Colonel Sheppard's sick..." she continued muttering as she picked up her tray to dump the remaining food. Kate was one of the few people who knew that Angie had a major crush on John.

Kate was learning who Sheppard's friends and enemies were fast. So far, it was reassuring to know that he had far more friends than enemies.

Dr. Beckett had filled Kate in on John's mental state, and what he told her had sent her reeling.

John was trapped in a nightmare of painful memories that shot into his mind without any restraint. He was expressing abject terror to the people who he had at one time trusted, because all he knew now was the bad, and couldn't help associating the bad with the people who cared about him.

Kate, of course, wanted to know more, but Dr. Beckett had been insistent that the fewer people who made contact with him, the better. It was a 'one person at a time' situation, and today it was Teyla's turn. A good choice to go with since the woman had such a calming aura about her.

Stackhouse and his friends were still towering, still arguing, and Kate was certain that a fight would break out at any moment. Several people decided to end breakfast early and either slink out or march off in a huff. The doors to the mess were in constant open/close motion.

Something gold in color, long and sleek, bounded into the mess. The creature paused to sniff the air, then twisted around to slither off into the kitchen. A scream soon followed, accompanied by the clatter of cookware. The creature scuttle out quick as it could with a piece of toast in its mouth, slipping through the opening Mess hall doors just as a female soldier entered, yelping and leaping back as the creature passed.

" What the hell was that!" Someone shouted.

" I thought Zelenka was being paranoid when he talked about a giant rat!"

Kate just furrowed her brow. Life was officially odd.

SGA

" Have you gone in to see him yet?"

McKay rolled his eyes, then tore them away from the data-base screen to glare at Zelenka.

" No, I haven't, all right? I'm a little preoccupied in the mass 'save Sheppard yet again' attempt by trying to dig up a stupid name for this stupid disease to see if there might be a stupid cure. And right now, I'm coming up with zip. All though it would probably go a lot fast if you didn't keep looking around. Atlantis doesn't have rats."

Zelenka, perched on a stool at another console, folded his arms and swiveled on the seat. " Tell that to the rat-like being I saw scuttling down the corridors. Believe me, Rodney, I do not know what it was, but its appearance was rather rat-like. Why haven't you visited John?"

" Uh, well, let me think. Because Beckett told us to leave him alone? Um, yeah, I think that's why. Sound like a good enough reason?"

Zelenka scratched the side of his head. " Teyla has gone to see him."

McKay snorted. " What can I say, the woman's brave. You weren't there. You didn't see what happened. Sheppard was ready to take us all down, and from what I heard he's still armed. Not really in the mood to tempt fate here." Rodney looked back at the console. " I have no intention of dealing with a man who probably has me on the top of the list on who to decapitate first."

" You don't really believe that, do you?"

" Do you hear me denying it? Right now, I think the Colonel has every reason to be particularly pissed _at me_. I tend to subject him to unpleasentries, if you haven't noticed."

" You are loud enough for the whole of Atlantis to notice," Zelenka mumbled under his breath.

" I meant subject him to devices!"

" Oh, that. How often does that really happen, though?"

McKay did another derisive snort. " I don't know, why don't you ask Sheppard, I bet he's keeping count."

" You are over reacting. Besides, you told me John was acting afraid of everyone. If Dr. Beckett has spoken to him and lived, why not you?"

McKay reached into his pocket and pulled out a power bar.

_You want to know why, doc Z? You want to know why I won't see him? Because that isn't Sheppard in there. Beckett can spout his reassurances all he wants, but that X-ray triggered something. It had to. This didn't all start until after the fact. So it's my fault. I broke Sheppard. End of story. John has every right to be afraid of me, so why should I be the one to give the guy a heart attack just to have a pointless heart to heart?_

" Just drop it, Zelenka. We have work to do." Rodney took a bite of the bar, then set it down on the non-electrically sensitive part of the console. He began scrolling through more data, muddling through translating them, when he heard a high whuffing sound. Rodney looked up and glanced around. He turned his head in time to see some sort of massive golden rodent leap up and snatch his bar from off the console.

Alarmed, Rodney jerked back and fell from his seat, gaping at the scurrying/slithering furry body slipping out of the room through the doors that actually opened for it.

" What the... What was...!"

Zelenka was already out of his seat and running to the door. " See! See! Giant rat! We need to catch it before it decides to chew through something..." Zelenka's voice faded down the corridor.

McKay was still too startled to move from off the floor. He then glowered.

" That little rat took my bar."

" Oh buck up. McKay, you have a whole stash of them... well... everywhere."

McKay snapped his head around, then scrambled to his feet in an attempt to back away, only to fall on his rear again. He stared open mouth at himself sitting Indian style on the console Zelenka had occupied. His double pointed at him, shaking a finger.

" Funny, that's pretty much the same way Carson reacted. John nearly drowned, but I'd been a dolphin at the time, which I suppose is a little shocking in itself since we're on an alien planet."

McKay blinked rapidly several times for a moment before he finally pushed himself to his feet, straightening his clothes with two irritated tugs. Rodney had become accustomed to oddities over the years, and was not about to invest any energy and time gawking at this one. He pointed at his twin, and opened his mouth.

" No I'm not an Ascended!" Twin snapped.

Rodney snapped his jaw shut.

" And since when have wraith ever gotten this good with their illusions?"

Rodney dropped his hand. Twin hopped off the console and stood with hands folded behind his back, rocking on his heels and smirking.

" Call me CJ, or not. But I find it more convenient than _thing, it, whatchamacallit. _Rodney, we need to have a talk."

Rodney's jaw dropped open again. He narrowed his eyes at... himself... then slowly began circling... himself. He lifted his finger for another feeble act of pointing. " Uh..."

" Oh I'd love to explain what I am, because it'd probably make a little sense to you. Just consider me your friendly neighborhood energy entity on a mission to aid a mutual friend. Namely Sheppard."

McKay stopped and jerked back. " What about Sheppard? Are you torturing him? Did he send you here?" Then Rodney gasped. " Wait. This -this is a..."

" Oh don't you _even_ go there, I am not a hallucination. Just ask the good doctor, he'll confirm it. You didn't catch the virus, McKay, so don't flatter yourself with the idea. I don't want to have to deal with your hypochondriac pity party right now, so just suck it up."

Rodney stiffened with indignation, hiding behind it his ever increasing shock. This _thing_ might have been wearing his body, but its mannerism was too reminiscent of a certain Lt. Colonel.

CJ's smirk broadened. " Why, thank you McKay. I had a feeling that the Colonel and I had a lot in common. Speaking of the Sheppard, I highly recommend you go visit him. The moral support might do him some good."

At this, McKay tilted his head back and rolled his eyes. " Great, now weird energy aliens are prodding me. Don't I get a say in anything?"

" Does John?" That time, the voice had sounded strangely like Sheppard. Rodney lowered his head and jumped on seeing the Lt. Colonel standing before him, wearing that cocky smile of his. McKay took an involuntary step back.

" Gee, Rodney, I thought you'd be more thrilled to see your best buddy standing in front of you."

Rodney narrowed his eyes. " You're not John, and John isn't my _buddy_."

CJ shrugged. " Wow, you sure fooled me. Didn't think you had that much control over your own subconscious to be able to fool a telepath, but... So I guess your concern is just a cleverly planned act in case someone happened to be reading your mind?"

McKay widened his eyes in horror. " Reading my... Don't you dare try and read my mind?"

The smile left the John-like visage of the entity. " Oops, too late."

McKay let out a bitter bark of laughter. " You really are like John, and that's not a compliment! It's sick is what it is. Why are you pretending to be him?"

" I'm not, I'm just borrowing his form. Thought it might spark a little desire to go down and see your pal. Oh, wait, that's right, he's _not_ your pal. Now _that_ is sick, making Sheppard think you're his friend. He really does think that, you know. Caught a glimpse of it before the virus blocked all the good stuff out so that only the bad would come through."

McKay squinted again. " Huh?"

" Sheppard's having a hard time recalling the good 'ole days – of any kind. It's why he's so afraid. He's confused. He needs a little help remembering."

" Remembering what?"

CJ shrugged. " Oh, you know, why he thinks you're his friend, when apparently you're not. Maybe you should go down there now and help clear that up for him. Sadly it would make things worse, but at least you'd get it out in the clear, and then maybe he wouldn't have to feel so burdened with saving your ass all the time..."

" Stop it! Just stop it, all right! Crap! What are you, the ghost of Christmas everyday? I don't need some spook sending me on a freakin' guilt trip, gosh!"

The entity chuckled softly. " Ghost of Christmas everyday, I like that one. Listen, Rodney, I wouldn't be sending you on a guilt trip if you weren't already feeling guilty. You're blaming yourself for what's happening to John. But you know what? John's right, it isn't your fault. Beckett and I have been doing a little brainstorming, and the way we figure it, the mental breakdown was the next step in the illness. We think the virus distorted John's mind when he stepped onto the X-ray device, because according to his rather disturbing memories, that had been the height of his fear."

" What fear?"

" Wasn't John reluctant to step on that thing?"

" Yeah, but..."

CJ nodded. " I know, he did it. Like he was _really_ going to tell you he was scared. But, hey, guess what, he was, and then the virus struck, and now the terror won't stop."

McKay's heart plummeted. " Then – then it is my fault."

" Maybe, but probably not. You didn't force him to step on it. He could have said no. There's a reason why it's said that pride comes before the fall. John didn't want to back down because he knew you'd get after him about it, never let him live it down."

" Ha! see?"

" I'm not finished. He also stepped on it to prove to himself that he wasn't afraid, to not give in to fear. Being a soldier, he can't afford to cater to what he's afraid of. It starts with him refusing to step on a machine, and the next thing you know he's too afraid to go on missions because he might get shot at."

McKay cocked in eyebrow in confusion. " So, it's the military's fault."

CJ's form fizzed, and McKay's own form replaced that of Sheppard's. " Stay with me here, doc. _It's no one's fault. _Not your's, not John's, not the military's. It just happened. Fear was what he was feeling, so fear became stuck in his head. That's why you need to go talk to him, to help him fight that fear. He knows your his friend, he just needs help remembering. So stop floundering in self pity and go help your friend. Crap, McKay, he would have done the same for you hours ago."

Rodney wanted to fire a retort, spew out his indignation, argue that this alien entity didn't know what the hell it was talking about. Except that it read minds, so knew _exactly_ what it was talking about.

Rodney straightened, tensing his jaw. " I suppose, then, you're aware that I'm rather... uncomfortable... with..."

" Seeing him in the state he's in? Oh yeah, I hear that loud and clear. Like I said before, just suck it up. In fact, think about that state he's in, let it motivate you." CJ's form wavered, and was replaced with Sheppard again – a sick, pale, unsteady, subdued Sheppard looking thinner than normal in the loose scrubs. " Maybe this'll help?"

A lump formed in Rodney's throat, so he swallowed it back. " That – um – that bad, huh?"

" Oh, worse, actually. He can hardly move. Hasn't been able to let Carson give him pain medication."

Rodney wanted to strangle himself. He'd practically turned his back on John.

" Forget about it, McKay. Just go talk to him. I'll meet you down there."

With that said, CJ vanished. Seconds later Zelenka walked in, out of breath and shaking his head. " I lost it." He then halted, glancing McKay over.

" Rodney?"

Rodney snapped from his daze with a twitch of his head. " I've gotta go." He hurried out the door, giving Zelenka's shoulder a quick pat along the way. " You'll catch it!" he called out behind him. " Just build a big mouse trap!"

SGA

John hardly had an appetite, so the majority of the food on the tray was still on the tray; cold, dry, and gradually sinking into being inedible. Only the glass of milk was empty thanks to John's overbearing thirst that had been ignored in his panic.

The little food he'd managed to get down was doing its job, and fueled John's limbs with enough strength to push himself up onto his hands rather than just his elbows. But Beckett, through CJ, had insisted that John remain prone. The situation with his bones was too precarious to risk any sitting up.

It pissed John off, the fact that he was frail as a brittle old man. He was vulnerable, ripe for taking down, and it made his heart slam hard enough for him to hear it. The smells of disinfectants and chemicals – scents of the sterile infirmary – played havoc with his imagination, pulling up images and memories of medical labs where experimentation was the goal, not healing. But even that became shoved to the back of his mind when Teyla arrived.

She was now sitting on folded legs several feet from him with her hands clasped together on her thighs and her expression serene. But the reaction of John's mind was to see a woman poised on the brink of acting, readying to strike at any moment. And despite Beckett's and CJ's warnings, John had pushed himself onto his elbows, gripping the saw tight in both hands. He ignored the growing ache in his shoulders.

They remained silent for a long time, and that silence began hacking away at John's nerves.

_What is she waiting for? Why doesn't she strike? She hates me, she's toying with me. Where's CJ? He would know what she's thinking. I need to know what she's thinking. _

It was growing harder to stay up, and he clenched his jaw in an attempt to hide any expressions of pain.

He still sucked at it. Teyla's face lined with concern.

" Are you all right, John? Are you in pain?"

Images of wraith darts snatching humans, and images of wraith culls, flashed like lightening into John's brain.

" Would it make you happy if I was?"

Teyla shifted ever so slightly, and John flinched. Her expression shifted from concern to alarm.

" Why would your pain ever make me happy?"

When the ache became all-consuming pain, John's arms buckled and he fell back to the bed, with more pain flooding out from his chest. He grimaced, uttering a broken whimper, then gasped.

" You know why!" he barked out in a cracked voice. " You hate me. I know you do. I brought the wraith to your people, took them away from their home, woke the wraith up. I ruined your lives!"

Teyla's features softened back into concern. " John, I do not hate you, and I do not blame you. I never have. You saved my people, even risking your own life to do so. You saved my life on many occasions. You are my friend, John, and seeing you in pain hurts me."

John squinted his eyes. The words sounded wrong to him, off according to his recollection, but he absorbed them, held to them, yet could not stifle his need to be wary of the Athosian woman.

" You're not mad."

" Of course not, John. Why would you think that?"

John, against every scream of warning pounding in his head, closed his eyes. The act made him tense up in readiness, and he had to fight to keep his eyes shut.

" I'm... confused, Teyla." He snapped his eyes open when he could no longer stand it, and when more images of culls, screams, pain, and destruction clouded his thoughts. The burden of what he had done was smothering him, and even Teyla's soothing assurances couldn't dispel it.

" You aren't... You won't... You're not... going to – hurt me?" He then laughed so bitterly it verged on a sob. " I'm so freakin' pathetic..." A tear rolled down his face. He then coughed, hard, expelling some of the phlegm still coating his lungs.

" I'm sorry, Teyla, for what it's worth. I'm sorry I woke up the wraith, activated that beacon. I'm sorry for what I did to your people."

" John, don't be, please..."

" I am, Teyla. And, hell, I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry I feel that way when you don't want me to, and that it's upsetting you. But the way I'm going, I'll probably be sorry for being born. It's not you Teyla... It's me. I'm sorry for a lot right now. I want to believe you won't hurt me, but right now it's like trying to convince a paranoid schizophrenic he's not hearing voices. And I'm hearing a lot of voices."

Teyla smiled sadly. " It is all right, John. I know. But be assured, I _have never_ blamed you for anything. You _are_ my friend John, and I care about you, and you have no reason to be sorry."

John nodded, igniting a dull throb in his head. He flinched when Teyla shifted again. Another wave of guilt and fear washed over him, and he nearly let slip a beg for Teyla not to hurt him. But he quelled it by going over Teyla's words again and again, branding them into his mind, then pulling them back up when the guilt returned. It was the best semblance of control he could muster.

' _Hey, John, over here."_

John looked past Teyla to see long-haired tabby cat rubbing up against one of the infirmary beds.

_' Just thought I'd give you the heads up. You've got another visitor. Care to guess who?'_

John wrapped both his hands around the handle of the bone saw and tensed.

" Rodney," he breathed darkly. Teyla furrowed her brow.

" Rodney?"

" He's here."

Teyla, glanced over her shoulder, then slowly rose to her feet, backing away from John so as not to startle him. John heard voices talking in low tones out of sight, and he ignored the aches to prop himself back up.

CJ the cat vanished only to reappear at the corner of John's mattress, wearing John's healthy, mission ready form. " You did good with Teyla," he said. " And you didn't even need my help."

" Where were you!" John snapped, his eyes darting from the entity to where the others were standing out of sight.

CJ's face betrayed his slight discomfort. " Um, John, you know what humans say about conquering fears, right?"

John closed his eyes and groaned. " Ah, man, you brought him here?"

" Yeah, John, I did. I mean if you don't want to talk with him, that's fine, but I really think a little heart to heart with McKay might help. I mean, yeah, you still won't let Beckett even touch you or Teyla near you, but at least you don't react on seeing them by readying that saw. Think of it this way. Your mind's making you believe you're surrounded by the enemy, so it stands to reason that you need to start making a few allies. That and I think we're starting to make a breakthrough."

John dropped back onto the bed, only to push himself up again. " What do you mean? Sure as hell doesn't seem like it to me."

" Probably not, but you're not really seeing what I'm seeing. I guess you can say that you have something to fall back on, new memories your brain's unable to shut out. The fear comes crashing the party, then the words Beckett and Teyla said step in to calm things down a notch. You have something to fight back with, and you seem to be using it so far. You actually ate some of the food Carson brought. I'd give you a cookie for that, but..." He made to set his hand down on John's bare ankle, only to have it pass right through. John jerked in alarm.

" Sorry," CJ said.

" Okay, that makes no sense," a familiar, petulant voice butted in. John snapped his head around to land his terrified gaze on the Canadian physicist. Rodney was standing several feet away with his hands in his pockets and his stance rigid. " How come you can sit on that mattress but not be able to touch Sheppard?"

CJ grinned. " Mind over matter, McKay. But the truth is I'm not really sitting, more like hovering. Your mind doesn't see the difference. This form is an illusion, McKay, and that goes for everything this form does."

" Oh yeah? What's your real form then?"

" Depends. Sometimes a really shiny, pretty mist full of shiny, pretty colors. Sometimes a slight shimmering in the air like heat coming off of asphalt in the summer. Sometimes nothing you can see with the naked eye, only what can read with a very sensitive detector or see with a very powerful microscope."

Rodney, biting his lip thoughtfully, nodded. " Huh. That might explain why Grodin's having a hissy-fit over Atlantis' energy readings."

" Probably. Are you here to discuss my attributes, or for something I would deem a _smidgen_ more important?"

Rodney's eyes flicked over to John, and John's heart lurched. He had watched McKay the entire conversation, but now that the scientist's attention was on him, his mind exploded with a thousand images at once. Devices, devices, and more devices, and McKay telling him to activate them all.

Blinding light, an overabundance of terror, and terrible pain.

John managed to go from his elbows to his hands, but that was it. His arm shook with the pain shooting up and down his arm from his shoulder to his hand, especially the shoulder where the mini-barracuda had bitten him. He began panting, seething, strings of saliva flying from his lips and stretching down past his chin.

" Go ahead, John, say it," CJ urged.

" I _will not_ step on that glass, McKay. You can just go to hell!"

CJ grimaced, sucking a hiss of air through his teeth. " Okay, could have done without the 'go to hell' part. Your turn, McKay."

McKay never took his uneasy gaze from John. He had both hands raised as though he were facing an armed robber rather than a sick man with a saw.

" My turn? What do you mean _my turn_? What do you want me to do, go to my knees and beg for forgiveness?"

CJ smirked. " We'll save that for when things get really bad. Relax, McKay. Being uneasy makes Sheppard uneasy, and I really don't think we want that. The Colonel just said he didn't want to step on the glass. Now you respond by saying..."

McKay winced. " Don't be such a wuss?"

CJ narrowed his eyes. " Try again. Remember that little talk we had in the lab? And put your hands down."

Sighing, McKay dropped his hands to his side, sagging his shoulders. " What am I supposed to say?"

John swallowed tightly, his head pounding with constant recollection barrage. " I will not go on it again!"

" John..."

John shivered. The memories were overlapping with his reality, and even he wasn't sure as to what he was saying, only that it needed to be said. He needed to prevent – something – from happening again. He didn't want to go back to the device.

" It tried to kill me McKay, it tried to freakin' _kill me_! It tried to kill me. I'm not going back. I won't go back."

Rodney nodded jerkily. " All- all right, John. It's okay, You – you don't have to. Y-you never have to. J-just say no, right?" he said with a pathetic half-laugh. " Hell, if you want, I'll even blast the thing so you never have to see it again."

" Wow, he's telling the truth, John. Sweet. Let's take him up on it."

Rodney glared at CJ, then looked back at John. The apologetic and woeful expression on Rodney's face caused John to mentally stumble, interrupting the memory assault for a brief moment. Never in John's acquaintanceship with Rodney had he ever seen the scientist wear such a look of raw, unhindered emotion. The sincerity of it was undeniable, yet the fact that John had never seen Rodney with such a look made him cringe.

_It's a trick._

" No it's not, John. What you're seeing is for real. Want me to have Carson take a picture?"

" John?" Rodney said, almost pleadingly. " I know you're probably really sick of hearing this, but I'm really, really, really, _really_ sorry. I -I hate it when this kind of stuff happens. You remember how you told me you wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for the gene? Well, you're right, you wouldn't. You'd be back on earth, healthy, and sane. You wouldn't be going through this crap. But I swear, John, we're going to make this right. We're going to find a way to stop this. I mean, we always do, don't we? Something happens, we ship you to the infirmary, and find a way to make you... better. Well, you're in the infirmary, so the next step would be to fix you. So... just... hang on. We're gonna help you, like we always do. Um... yeah."

Rodney stuck his hands back in his pockets, nodded, and glanced around in casual observation. " Yeah."

John's arms couldn't take anymore, and gave up on holding him up. He lowered himself toward the mattress, then dropped the rest of the way. With Rodney done talking, the images started up like a wagon being pushed down a hill and gaining momentum. He closed his eyes, and the memories coalesced with Rodney's words. The contradiction was confusing as all crap, and he didn't know which to focus on.

" The words, John, the words."

John sighed, then began laughing softly.

" What?" Rodney demanded. " What're you laughing at? You're really cracked, you know that Sheppard?"

John laughed a little louder. " I know. I'm freakin' screwed up." He shuddered fearfully, but kept laughing. " I'm afraid of you, Rodney. You. I'm freakin' afraid of _you_."

He heard Rodney snort. " What, you think I can't be intimidating when I want to be?"

" No. No. It's not that... You're my friend. I'm afraid of my friend. I know you're my friend and I'm still afraid of you." Laughter awakened a stabbing pain in his side, and the breath caught in his throat. He gasped and curled into himself, his laughter sinking into a sob. The pain was excruciating, and created a domino affect of even more pain in his shoulder, leg, back, and chest. He rolled onto his back, arched his spine, straightened and bent his leg, but the only relief he got was the pain becoming an ache, only to become pain again.

" John?" Rodney said.

" He's hurting, Rodney. Give him a moment," CJ replied.

And a moment later, the pain abated. John made a mental note never to laugh again. He rolled back onto his side.

" Ah, man this sucks!" he groaned.

He heard something rattle, and opened his eyes to see a small, brown bottle rolling his way. He reached out a limp out to grab it, and lifted it toward his face to read the label.

" Beckett says to take one," Rodney said. " He also said something about trusting him whether you like it or not?"

John smiled, and despite his mental promise, allowed himself a small chuckle. He popped the cap off the bottle and shook a pill into his hand. A thousand shouts of warning resounded in his skull. He stuck the pill into his mouth and swallowed it dry before the screams were the only sounds he heard. He then let his head fall onto the mattress.

" Insanity's a bitch."

SGA

CJ, still wearing John's form and perched on the edge of one of the infirmary tables, swung his legs back and forth as he watched Rodney pace. Carson was standing at the opposite end of the table with his arms folded and his leg twitching. It had the makings of a secret club meeting, a club CJ had involuntarily started in his endeavor to help Sheppard.

Carson's discomfort of CJ was a lingering presence in his mind, but Rodney was too busy being in Rodney-mode to give any attention to discomfort. CJ could take the form of a giant purple rabbit and Rodney wouldn't even notice. Carson, on the other hand, would have died of a heart-attack. He seemed ready to at any moment.

" I can't find anything in the data base," Rodney said. " I mean I know I haven't been searching long, but I've found diseases with similarities with John's, just not the disease itself. Personally, I don't even think it's in the database. The diseases I looked up were categorized by their effects and potency, so I should have found it by now."

" Come on McKay," CJ said. " With you and doc on the case, this should be a cake walk."

McKay, still pacing, rolled his eyes. " Please. I mean thanks for the vote of confidence, but I'm running out of ideas and Carson looks ready to bolt."

" I am not," Carson said defensively.

" He's not," CJ responded.

Rodney rounded on the entity, frustration rolling off him like a scorching wind. " What is it you expect us to do? What were you hoping to accomplish by having us talk to John, huh? He's still paranoid out of his skull and won't let us near him, and we still haven't discovered squat about this virus except that it has a soft spot for the Ancients..."

" You got him to take some pain medication," CJ said. " I'd say that's a good start. You need to expand your horizons a little more, McKay. Think beyond databases."

" What's that supposed to mean?"

" It means not all answers are recorded," CJ replied. " Ever think for a moment that this virus is some kind of mutation or the brain child of biological engineers?"

At this, CJ felt the wave that was epiphany from both Rodney and Carson. Carson pointed at Rodney.

" That facility you were studyin' with Ilian. You mentioned you had some suspicions that it might have been a sort of hospital?"

McKay nodded as his thoughts sent ripples through the mental ambient only CJ was aware of. CJ grinned. " That's it McKay, now you're cookin'."

" Stop that."

" Stop what?"

" You know what. Poking around in my head. And, yeah, that place had the makings of some kind of infirmary. I mean it does have a super X-ray that would make you drool, Beckett." Then Rodney snapped his fingers. " And the Colonel didn't start getting sick until after we visited that world. And if that place had a few labs..."

" Then there could be a few lingerin' germs about," Carson finished.

CJ clapped. " Congratulations, you are now officially thinking as one. Now..." CJ felt another ripple, one he didn't like, and shot a narrow-eyed gaze at Rodney. " Oh no. You cannot bring that Ilian guy in on this. I may not have met him personally, but you don't have to read thoughts to know John _hates_ that guy. How do you think he's going to react when he sees him?"

Rodney folded his arms to become visually uncomfortable. " I know, I know. But that facility is Ilian's project and chances are he's going to want to be in on anything concerning the Ancients and whatever comes from that world. Well, I don't know, maybe he'll back off if we ask him..."

CJ glared. " Rodney, I can practically taste your doubt, and it's nasty. You may have hit it off with the guy, but you don't trust him as far as you can throw him. And John would very much like to throw him off a cliff. Or at least use that saw he has a death-grip on. Do you know why I appeared to you two and not anyone else so far?"

" I've been wondering that," Rodney replied without hiding his suspicion (as if he could).

" Because you two are the ones best suited to help John against this virus, and I needed to prepare you so you would know how to handle him on a mental basis. Well, that and I've never been fond of making numerous appearances to numerous people, but that's beside the point. When it comes to him being any kind of fragile, it's his mind you need to be the most careful around. Sometimes it's bad, sometimes it's not, and therein lies the problem. It could get worse. It could reach the point where he feels driven to massive self defense or suicide. You're his friends and look how he reacts around you. It's going to be ten times that around Ilian."

" He has a point," Carson said. " I've seen the way Moranga acts around Sheppard, and so have you Rodney. If Ilian finds this virus fascinatin' in the name of science, then he'll treat John as nothin' more than an object, a lab rat to be dissected."

Rodney mentally shivered at that, and CJ caught the memories of the scientist talking with John after the X-ray deal.

" _Lab-rat_, _McKay. Is it just me, or are those two words really starting to describe who I am?" _But CJ decided not to comment on the thought since the Canadian was agitated enough.

" The virus might have even originated from that world," McKay said, about to pace a hole in the floor. " Some diseases take days to incubate, right?"

Carson shook his head sadly. " Not this one. It works fast. You suspect that Ancient lab, and I'm inclined to agree with you."

McKay finally stopped pacing, casting his gaze to the floor and standing perfectly still. The turmoil in his head was like churning water to CJ.

" For all we know, Ilian already has data on this virus." Rodney's desire to help John and his desire not to cause John any more pain conflicted on a massive scale, and CJ felt bad for the physicist. Rodney then turned to look at both Carson and CJ.

" Isn't there a chance this virus might just die out once John's immune system attacks it?"

" I'd personally rather not take the chance," Carson said. " If I can get John to let me check him, I might be able to tell you more." He then looked at CJ. " Is there a way to convince John to let me near him?"

CJ shrugged. " Probably. If you work alone, explain things to him. He _will_ try to trust you, doc. It's just going to be one hell of a fight. You'll have to work fast before he gives in to panic. There's times when he can't control it no matter what he does. I'll warn you if that's about to happen."

Carson sighed and slumped. " Thanks, I think."

CJ turned his attention to Rodney. " If there's a way to get Ilian to help without him having to see Sheppard, I'd go for it. Chances are, an encounter will be inevitable. I don't like it, John'll hate it, but seeing as how I've appeared to three people, I'd say things are at the 'whatever it takes' stage."

Rodney and Carson exchanged worried looks, and CJ felt their concern vibrate the very air.

They heard John cough, harsh and raspy, gasping in ragged breaths afterwards.

" I think he's soundin' worse," Carson said.

SGA

A/N: Oh yeah! Bring on the whumps! As the saying goes, things are only going to get worse before they get better.

For those of you reading my CSINY fic, the reason I haven't posted new chapters is _not_ because I'm working on Just Keep Swimming. I'm coming down to the wire in that story, so I'm going to be taking even more time with it to get everything right. I've also had to do a little rearranging with the outline, including adding on a few more bits here and there, so chapters may be slow coming. But I am not taking a break with it, and I am planning on finishing it. I'm looking way too forward to the ending to stop.


	6. A Man Named Moron

A/N: I've spoiled you all with the quick updates. Bad me! Sorry for taking so long on this one. Idea after idea hit me on what I should do, but now I have it figured out so it should be most enjoyable, satisfying all whumping needs.

Part Six

A Man Named Moron

CJ observed, wearing no particular form say for that slight wavering in the air too easy to miss unless one knew where to look. The Stargate was lit up like a Las Vega sign (at least in CJ's opinion) with the symbols flashing as Atlantis' visitors dialed in. The crystal liquid congealed, exploded, then congealed again to form the perfect rippling puddle that laughed in the face of that space/time continuum deal physical beings were so fond of.

_'Take that light-years. Hah!'_

CJ knew he must have been heard when Rodney glanced over his shoulder, searching the room. CJ tended to project thoughts when he was agitated, and had he been wearing a face would have winced.

Beckett, Weir, Ronon, Teyla, and a couple of military men were present as protocol dictated. They could play happy, congenial host all they wanted, but not a single soul on Atlantis trusted that Moranga man. CJ was actually excited about finding out why, hoping to see something that could be used to keep Moranga away from John's presence. It was hard enough helping John to keep his sanity with Carson and Rodney in sight. Moranga was going to propel John off the deep end.

The first form to step through was that of the tall, blond barbarian John despised just as much as Moranga. Then came the red-head, whose initial attractive lure was marred by John's distaste for her indifference.

Again, had CJ been wearing a face, he would have narrowed his eyes suspiciously. That didn't stop him from being suspicious, however. He wasn't picking up much on the mental wave from either of the two. Their emotions betrayed their mild dislike at being back on Atlantis, but their very thoughts were a blank to CJ.

Only people who suffered mind-wipes were ever blank slates, but were either overwhelmed by emotions or felt nothing at all. These two felt, they just didn't 'think'. It made absolutely no sense to the entity.

Finally, Ilian stepped through, and CJ prepared for a quick dive into his mentality.

" Welcome back to Atlanits," Weir said, rippling with distrust, " Ilian Moranga."

Ilian inclined his head in greeting, and CJ reeled back in shock, emitting that shock in a wave that made everyone in the room flinch – say for the three stepping from the gate.

CJ couldn't find a single thought in Ilian's head. The emotion of curiosity was buzzing all around CJ, there were just no mental articulations to go with it, much like a movie with the sound going but no picture. There was something there – there had to be since the man was feeling – CJ just couldn't figure out how to bring it up.

Ilian smiled a flat smile. " Thank you, Madame Weir. Now what is this I hear about a fallen comrade being plagued by an alien infection?"

Beckett stepped up to fill him in. " The Lt. Colonel John Sheppard seems to have come down with somethin' we've never encountered before."

Slight annoyance at the mention of John, and that was it.

_'What the hell!'_

Rodney did another double-take over his shoulder, and Carson faltered in his explanation.

" We... um... we think it might have been contracted in the lab you've been analyzin'."

" What are the basis for your suspicions?" Ilian asked.

" Well, he didn't start manifestin' symptoms until some time after his visitation to the lab. We were wonderin' if you might know somethin' about it."

Ilian nodded. " What are his symptoms?"

" High fever, lack of a proper appetite, congestion, possible skeletal deterioration, and mental deterioration."

Ilian cocked an eyebrow at this, and CJ wanted to scream. He was getting nothing off the little fat man.

Ilian replied. " Really? May I see him?"

At this, Rodney and Carson exchanged troubled looks. " Uh, that may not be a wise thing to do," Carson said. " Mentally he's highly unstable, and the presence of others upsets him. We're tryin' to keep him calm so he doesn't end up hurtin' himself."

Ilian narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to the doctor. Carson was taller than Ilian by a head, but size did nothing to deter the little man. He stared Carson right in the eye as though Carson were nothing more than a little child.

" Young man. This is not the time to placate the needs of an invalid. You asked if I might know something about it? Well, I may indeed, for what you have described to me is most familiar. And if I am right, then you all may be in grave danger."

" But I've tested the virus," Carson countered, taking a step back to regain personal space. " It only attacks those whose gene has a strong presence, like in Sheppard."

" And you think others in your city do not? If this is the virus I know of, it will no longer matter who has the gene and who does not. The virus will mutate to accommodate itself for whatever host it takes. If you do not act quickly, you may have a plague on your hands. Now allow me to visit your patient."

CJ really needed to take a form so he could grind his teeth. He couldn't tell truth from lies. He couldn't even tell what the man's favorite color was. The whole situation was off, and the degree to which it was off made CJ want to pull hair that didn't exist.

But if Moranga was telling the truth, then the Atlantis crew didn't have much of a choice. As much as CJ hated it, he couldn't risk a whole city just to save the mind of one man.

_' I really don't like it, doc. I can't get into this guy's head. You need to keep an eye on him. Get ready to stun the SOB and his goons if they try anything.'_

Carson gave a small tweak of a nod more for CJ's benefit than Ilian's.

" All – all right. But let me go in first, try and prepare him."

Beckett turned stiffly to lead the way, and the others all followed.

_' Hey, Rodney, a word? Just speak your mind and try not to shout.'_

_What!_

_' I said no shouting! Listen, I can't read Ilian's thoughts.'_

_What? How? Why?_

_' Well, gee Rodney, if I knew that then we wouldn't be having this conversation now would we? It's like trying to read white noise, it just ain't coming through. I don't know if it's some kind of Jedi/Vulcan mind-meld wannabe parlor trick or if some kind of device or something is involved. I'm getting small snippets of emotion but they're more like teasers. I can't crack this guy's skull – as much as I want to. You know how weird it is not being able to read a mind on a whim? It sucks! And it's making me nervous. You need to watch him, and don't leave him or his goons alone with John.'_

_All right, all right!_ Rodney's fear – normally already verging on a high level – was about to shoot through the roof.

_' Sorry, Rod. You're gonna have to play protector for Johnny boy. You and Carson. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll just go prepare John for the insanity that's forth coming.'_

SGA

Rodney's heart felt like it was trying to clamor out of his chest. So Ilian had been hiding something after all... and not even CJ could tell what it was. That in itself was far-more nerve-rattling than if CJ had found out something more specific. A man who could hide his very thoughts had a lot to hide. But hide from who? Beings like CJ? Or perhaps the wraith? The wraith sounded more plausible. Much of Ilian's technology and inventions were centered around avoidance of the wraith. The ability to shield the mind would do wonders against wraith illusions.

If that were the case, then Rodney – and CJ included – were jumping to conclusions. If anything Rodney needed to find a way to subtly question Ilian about this mind-block method. But first thing first, and that was Colonel Sheppard. Advanced technology could wait.

_Wow, I really am worried. _

The moment they reached the infirmary, Beckett whirled around to face the assemblage, his visage all doctor. " Rodney, I may need your help. Dr. Moranga, you and your assistants may enter, but I ask that you be the only one to see him. Everyone else must wait out here. I don't want the Colonel overwhelmed."

_Please have him ready you freaky spook,_ Rodney pleaded.

Beckett led the way into the infirmary, with Ilian and his little zombie cult following. Rodney followed after, pausing to flash Weir an apologetic, abashed smile.

" If you hear John scream, it's to be expected. If you hear me or Beckett scream, start to worry."

Weir's brow wrinkled. " What?"

Rodney grimaced and shook his head. " Nothing... just – being paranoid." He stepped through the door before Weir could ask anything further. Inside the infirmary. Beckett was talking to Moranga as his two assistants glanced around wearing unreadable expressions. The red head then began to wander in the direction of John's little nook. Rodney's heart shot into his mouth and he nearly tripped over his own feet rushing to grab her arm.

" Um, little premature to be going over there. Just... um... stay here. I need to check something."

He pulled her back a ways, then slowly crept into John's line of sight. His heart did another mad scramble into his mouth on seeing John sitting up and wedged into his corner, panting as though he'd just finished the fifty-yard dash. John tried to push himself even farther into the corner on seeing Rodney, and adjusted his grip on the saw.

The wildly vicious look of desperate self-preservation, sunken and bloodshot eyes, pale and sweaty face, and visible tension making John twitch and shiver caused Rodney's guts to do a series of back-flips. The man looked ready to kill, brittle bones or not. CJ, sitting on the corner of the mattress in John's healthy form, shrugged helplessly.

" I tried. At least we know his back can still support him."

Rodney raised both his hands. " Oh, yeah, that's real reassuring. Just means he won't be paralyzed gutting me or Ilian."

CJ shrugged again. " John has no qualms about gutting Ilian." Then grinned. " But he's hesitant to attack you."

" Lucky me," Rodney mumbled. " Listen, John," he said, daring to move a few inches closer. " We just brought Ilian in to help. He just wants to have a look at you, see if he recognizes the disease, then that's it. He's gone. No sticking you into devices or any crap like that. Just a quick peek and he's outta here."

" Like hell," John practically snarled. " Why'd you bring him here, Rodney?"

The blatant tone of accusation made McKay swallow nervously. " T-to help, that's all. We won't let him hurt you, John."

John's eyes darted from McKay to look beyond him, and the Colonel managed to dredge up the energy to straighten a little more, bringing the saw up to hold it out before him in a trembling hand. The vicious look of defense flashed into a wide-eyed expression of utter, crippling terror. Rodney glanced over his shoulder to see Ilian standing just to the right, then looked back at John.

The Lt. Colonel was gradually shrinking against the wall – part out of terror and part out of increasing weakness and the pain he was trying not to express. The man looked helpless, absolutely helpless, and it made Rodney physically ill. This was John Sheppard he was looking at, a man who on any other day was about as helpless as a raging bull or hunting lion. The man that held more concern for his team than whether a tick was sucking the life out of him or a wraith was smashing his ribs while pressing its hand in to feed.

If John was ever helpless, then they were all screwed.

It came to Rodney like a smash in the face just how much they relied on this one man to protect their collective butts. One measly, fragile, mouthy human who would toss his life away on a whim if it meant the survival of the rest of the Atlantis masses. His job may have forced such actions on him, but the fact that he acted without a second thought for himself – more as though it were an instinct than an order given by authorities billions of light-years away – told of a passion the man possessed that McKay had never fully realized until now - not even when John had darted off on his suicide run - and it amazed Rodney.

John cared on the most deep and most remarkable level McKay could imagine, a caring that verged very much along the lines of love. It wasn't the love that most tended to focus on these days – the man-woman, couple, partner, let's kiss/make-out whatever crap – but the love most tended not to express. The love of friendship, of denying the self to insure the happiness or survival of the other. Brotherly love, sisterly love, love for one's fellow man – Sheppard had it all. John was just a fountain of love beneath his cool, laid-back, sarcastic, fly-boy, militeristic exterior.

Now what was he? A turned-table. The flip-side of what he had always been before – self-sacrificing and selfless, concentrating only on the other. He was fighting for survival, but the man no longer had the means to protect even himself.

_' What did I say, Rod? You're the guardian now.'_

McKay's eyes flicked to where CJ was sitting. The entity was staring at him hard, warningly.

_Don't want to run the risk of you talking out loud and making Moron here think you're sick or something,'_ He explained.

" The virus seems to be progressing rapidly," Ilian said. " As is the subject's deterioration."

McKay whirled around and glared threateningly as possible at the small scientist.

" _Subject?_ That _subject_ is the Lt. Colonel Sheppard who happens to be a friend of mine. This isn't some stupid science experiment, the man is sick. We brought you here to help us heal him, not study him." McKay moved himself so that he was standing between Moranga and John, blocking the terrified John from Moranga's sights. It came to Rodney that it wasn't Moranga's body-building assistant he had to worry about, but Moranga's icy indifference toward Sheppard.

Moranga sighed. " You must understand, Dr. McKay. The more this virus advances, the more dangerous it becomes. There is a certain level at which the virus is at its strongest and thus becomes highly contagious. The Colonel is nearing that level now. The physical manifestations and his apparent agitation tell me this. You must quarantine him, and quickly. In fact, it would be far more wise if you took him from this base, away from so many. The ancient facility has a quarantine zone that is operational..."

" No!" John shouted.

McKay spun around. " John!"

John hadn't moved; he hadn't even lowered his arm despite the effort it took to keep it raised, but the wild animal resolve of self-preservation had returned. " I'm not going back to that freakin' place! I'm not going back _with him_!"

" Come now," Ilian said, and McKay turned back. The little man was looking ever so slightly perturbed. " We have no time for this, Dr. McKay. Just have him pinned and sedated, then bring him to facility. I will be able to help him more effectively there."

" We can't!" McKay barked though it came out as more of a whine. " Holding him down in the state he's in will _probably_, _very likely, and most definitely_ result in having every bone in his body broken..."

" I'm not going back, McKay!"

McKay let out an exasperated breath. " I know, John. You're not. I told you, know one's going to hurt you."

" He wants to take me back! I won't go back!"

" John!" McKay shouted. Ilian's coldness, John's hysteria, and all the noise in general, was shredding Rodney's nerves into confetti. John kept shouting, over and over, how he wouldn't go back, and Ilian simply shook his head impatiently. Carson came in to join the lovely little fray, shouting over John's cries, asking what was going on.

" Get him the hell away from me!" John screamed.

Rodney barely caught it in time. An imperceptible flick of Ilian's wrist, and John's rants died as though someone had pressed mute. McKay did another sudden turn to see John's head hanging limply from his neck and his body slumped like a rag doll.

" What the bloody hell!" Beckett cried, and ran over to John. He gently eased the Colonel's inert frame onto the mattress, then felt his neck for a pulse.

" He's alive," he said with a strained voice. He then pulled out his light pen and pulled John's eye-lids apart, flashing the light into the pupils. " I think he's sedated."

" Of course he is," Ilian said. " I merely incapacitated him in order to silence him."

Rodney gaped. Beckett checked John over, starting with his neck, and pulled out what appeared to be a small electronic dart from his neck. He held it up, turning it in the light. It was silver, with a small, pulsating blue light and a thin needle on the tip. Rodney snapped back to reality, hurried over to Beckett, and took the dart from his fingers. He looked down at the unconscious John lying in a boneless heap on the bed.

_At least he's getting some rest now._

Rodney looked at CJ. CJ looked pissed, and since he was wearing John's face, it caused cold to creep down Rodney's spine. There was no saying how to feel around an angered, mind-reading entity, but worried sounded about right.

_' Really worried if that Moron freak could see me. But I doubt he can.'_

Rodney looked at Ilian, but the man was his usual emotionless self if a little impatient.

" If you're not going to bring him," Ilian said, " then I will have it done myself. You are wasting valuable time. Jy, come here please."

The blonde man sauntered in, insentient as his boss, and went straight for Sheppard. Rodney stood, and McKay turned, lifting his chin in as much defiance as he could gather.

" What do you think you're doing?" he asked, trying to sound as cool and detached as Ilian.

The response was Jy shoving passed the two, then crouching to grab John's wrist. He began to drag John from the mattress like a kid dragging his favorite stuffed animal, and the horror of it caused Rodney to choke on his own words.

" Wha... son of a... Stop that!" He then tapped the radio in his ear. " We need security in here now!"

Beckett was already trying to pry Jy's fingers from John's wrist, but the bigger man shoved him aside like he was a pesky rat terrier. The doors slid open, and three armed soldiers rushed in with their guns trained on Jy. Jy stopped and looked to Ilian for what to do next. Ilian simply rolled his eyes.

" Drop the Colonel!" one of the soldiers shouted. Ilian shrugged, and Jy let go. Beckett rushed over and felt John's shoulder and along his arm for any breaks.

" Again, you are wasting valuable time, gentlemen," Ilian said.

" What do we do, sir?" the soldier asked Rodney. Rodney moved himself between the Colonel and the towering, blond Fabio-wannabe, but reserved his withering stare for Ilian.

" If Sheppard wasn't sinking into mental and physical hell, I'd have your asses thrown into the brig. But the fact that we need your help and that you know this virus remains, so I guess luck's still on your side. Fine, we'll bring him to your precious facility, right now, while he's under. But he'll need to stay under while he's there. And if there really is a way to remedy this, then you remedy it and we're gone. You don't touch him, handle him, or any other crap like that. You want something from him – blood, urine, whatever – you ask Dr. Beckett, not one of your cronies. We will transport him to your facility by our own means that does _not_ involve dragging his body through half of Atlantis. So just give us a moment to get ready and we'll be along shortly."

It was hard not to slug the man. Ilian looked down at Sheppard with a wrinkled noise as though John were nothing more than roadkill that was starting to rot.

" Of course," he said after a moment. " I would be honored to have the doctor and you pay another visit. But you only."

Rodney shook his head. " No, Teyla too. She'll want to come."

_' Good call, Rod,' _CJ said. _' She could take blondie in a heartbeat if it ever came to it.'_

" Fine. But no more. I've barely room in my home to accommodate... soldiers. And I loathe having armed men in my house."

Now it was McKay who rolled his eyes. " Whatever. Just meet us by the gate. Will you three play escort and ensure they arrive all right?"

_I.E. make sure they don't touch anything._

As Ilian, followed by his assistants, moved to exit the infirmary with the soldiers surrounding them, CJ appeared behind Ilian and leaned in close to his ear.

" Can't hide that melon forever little man." He then looked over his shoulder at Rodney and winked. " I'll keep an eye on them."

On leaving, Weir, Teyla, and Ronon stepped in – Weir and Teyla drawn with concern, and Ronon looking ready to literally rip off a few heads.

" What happened?" Weir asked, her eyes going straight to an unconscious John. " What's going on?"

Rodney crouched to help Becket carefully roll John onto his back by keeping his head and neck immobile. " Let's just say... John really knows who to hate when it comes to hating anyone."

SGA

Getting John into the wheelchair was easy enough. Doing it without cracking any bones was the precarious part. Beckett and Teyla took the Colonel by one arm, McKay and Elizabeth by the other, and Ronon was employed in supporting John's back and head as they slowly lifted him into the wheelchair. Beckett had never seen the big man look so nervous in his life. Sweat was actually pouring like rain down his face and neck. They slid the Colonel into the chair, and sat him back when Ronon removed his hand from John's spine while continuing to support his head.

" He feels... lighter," Ronon mumbled, scrunching his brow.

" Aye," Beckett replied as he checked Sheppard over; listening to his heart, flashing the penlight in his eyes, then carefully feeling his arms and neck for signs of breakage. " It's the virus. It's wearin' him down fast. I've never known a virus to work so quickly. Must be all the stress stiflin' his immune system." Beckett took over for Ronon in supporting John's head by letting it rest against his own stomach as he took one handle of the wheelchair with one hand and placed the other on John's chest to keep him upright.

Weir draped a blanket over John from the waist down. It might have been an inferno where they were going, but at the moment he was twitching with what might have been cold.

" Are you sure about this?" Weir asked, adjusting the blanket.

Carson sighed heavily. " Not really. But we've no time to banter with Ilian. If John's body doesn't fight this thing off on its own – and right now he's showin' signs of losin' – then it'll only be a matter of time before it kills him, and in more ways that one. Malnutrition, suffocation from congestion, or even a broken neck just because he wanted to lift his head. And, though I hate to say it, if Ilian's right about the nature of this thing being highly contagious, then we don't want to run the risk of infectin' all of Atlantis."

Teyla placed her hand lightly on John's shoulder. " We will watch out for him."

Weir nodded. " I'd feel even better about the situation if you had back-up... but at least John won't be alone."

Rodney snorted. " Like hell we're leaving him alone with that little freak. Just be ready for any distress calls that may come through."

Ronon eyed Rodney in that knowing, penetrating way of his. " You no longer trust Moranga?"

Rodney shrugged uneasily. He hated when Ronon looked at him like that. " Not any more. He knocked Sheppard out without us realizing it, and personally that ranks high on the 'need to worry' scale."

" Let's just get this over with so we can have the Colonel back," Carson said. He wasn't looking forward to a trip through the gate, and even less to a visit in Ilian's little neck of the woods. He wheeled the still Sheppard from the infirmary with the others following like a mis-matched honor guard. They arrived at the gate to find it dialed and the event horizon rippling. Soldiers were standing guard, and others were watching from the control room.

Ilian was by the gate, waiting, and the moment he saw the others arrive he stepped through the gate, followed by his assistants. CJ was visible in John's healthy form, and it caused a strange sensation of deja vu to wash through Carson. With Teyla and Rodney approaching the gate, it felt reminiscent of any other day when the team was departing off on another mission. Then he looked down at the real Sheppard, and his mind jolted as though waking from a dream.

" No time like today, doc," CJ said, then vanished in a heartbeat. He felt Dr. Weir place a hand on his shoulder, and he looked back out her.

She smiled reassuringly. " Take care of him, and yourselves. I don't think I need to say it."

Carson nodded. " Aye, I know. Be safe."

" And come back."

Carson shuddered. The way everyone was acting, one might think they were walking to their doom.

_Oh, now that's just a lovely parting thought. Bloody hell._

Carson walked to the gate and stepped through, sucking in a breath just as he was broken down and sent careening on the ride that made roller-coasters seem like swing sets.

SGA

Elizabeth released the breath she had been holding the moment Carson stepped through the gate. She was highly tempted to send Ronon through to play spy and remain hidden should back-up be needed. Funny how one little action such as Ilian sedating John could make them all so paranoid.

Or was it Ilian's constant cold shoulder toward John that had her tense as a guitar string? She swore the temperature in the room dropped whenever that creepy little man entered it.

Somebody yelped, and that yelp was followed by several shouts when a sleek, golden body bounded quickly through the gate room to leap through the gate. Seconds later, the gate shut down. Elizabeth jerked her head back in alarm, then glanced around questioningly only to find everyone else doing the same.

" What the hell was that!" she demanded. Zelenka came running in, panting heavily.

" A – a rat," he gasped.

" A big damn rat," someone else murmured.

SGA

A/N: Tut tut, Little Jim, what're you up to now? Sorry if this chapter seemed a little shorter than what I've been doing. I'm coming down to the wire, like to save the best for last, so decided to do just that and keep all the good stuff on one chapter.

We've housed, baby-sat, and raised rat terriers. Never again!


	7. Hazardous to One's Health

A/N: Lot of back and forth in this one, so read carefully.

Part Seven

Hazardous to One's Health

Ilian's home was – for lack of a better word – opulent. Inside was a menagerie of artifacts and technological devices set on glass shelves, in wall nooks or hung pristinely on the wall. Blindingly bright rugs woven in such intricate geometric patterns to have Rodney gaping covered the vast majority of the hard-wood floor, and the arrangement of art-deco mingling with crudely crafted furniture actually worked to form a pleasingly aesthetic balance. Every room was like this, including the guest quarters reached by transporter rather than stairs – a massive relief to the Atlantis team since none were too keen on having to carry John bodily up any steps.

Once in the room with its thick red rug that felt like walking on a marshmallow, Beckett, Rodney, and Teyla methodically relocated Sheppard's body to the bed covered in a red, gold, and violet blanket. Carson did another passing sweep for broken bones and another listen to heart and lungs, shaking his head and lining his brow, then Teyla pulled the covers up to John's neck. The Colonel had yet to stir, but it couldn't be said by any of them that he was sleeping peacefully. His brow was deeply furrowed in, his eyes darting rapidly in REM sleep, and sweat beaded all over his face. He was also breathing fast, but shallow, and had started another round of shivering until the blanket was pulled over him.

Beckett had come prepared with a small bag of assorted and needed items; stethoscope, syringes, various medicines, first aid kit, IV items say for the pole itself – but the most disturbing item of all was the small, portable defibrillator.

It spooked Rodney on spotting it as Carson rummaged through the bag, pulling out a small box where syringes were nestled in blue foam.

" Please tell me you don't expect to use that," Rodney said, pointing at the mini-machine. Carson, readying a needle to stick in John's arm, glanced at Rodney, then the box.

" Just a precaution," he said. " Never hurts to play it safe." He turned back to Sheppard and stuck the needle into the vein within the crook of his arm. Blood filled the syringe like a well contained geyser. Carson removed it and placed a small pad over the pin-prick hole. He then handed Teyla a wash cloth and told her to go wet it with cool water. Nodding, she exited the room toward the wash room down the long hallway. Ilian's place might have been luxurious, but it still wasn't the Ritz. No individual bathrooms for guests.

_Speaking of the weirdo..._ Rodney began, glancing around at a room vacant of Ilian and his goon-squad.

" He's off to be the wizard, Rod," CJ said, still decked out in John's healthy form, leaning against the door frame.

" Huh?"

CJ pointed down. " He headed into the facility. Said something about setting up the lab."

" Good," Carson replied, snapping the clasps of a small black box then standing. Teyla returned with the wet cloth, and knelt by the bed as she proceeded to wipe John's brow. Carson nodded in approval.

" Good, lass. You keep him cool. I'm going to find Moranga, see if I can't start an analysis on this blood. Rodney, you should start preppin' some of the devices down there. You think Ilian got that X-ray machine to work right?"

Rodney's blood dropped like sand to the bottom of his feet. Mere mention of the machine sent cold shooting through him like wraith darts. He shook his head vehemently. " Oh no, uh-uh, I am _not_ sticking John back into that thing."

" Rodney, you really need to get pass the blame-game here. It wasn't your fault..."

Rodney raised both his hands. " No! That's not it," he snapped. " Look, it's not a matter of blame anymore. I made a promise to John that I wouldn't stick him in any more devices, and I plan to stick by it. We're trying to win back his blasted trust, here. What do you think'll happen if he wakes up and finds himself lying on that glass, or strapped to some table? He'll flip, that's what! He'll flip and either die of fright or gut the hell out of us, and either way I'm not willing to take that chance."

" He's right, doc," CJ said. " You don't know how long John'll stay sedated. If you wait for him to wake up, you'll never be able to put him out again."

Carson looked ready to argue, because he wanted to argue. He opened his mouth, took a breath, then sighed. " Bloody-hell, you had to make a good point. We should've X-rayed him before we left. I'm worried about the extent of bone-density loss. We're going to have to move him as little as possible, so I guess that means devices are out of the picture."

Rodney nodded, half relieved and half a little regretful. Some of those devices could have been useful. But the lab showed signs of promise – filled to bursting with equipment that would have Carson salivating.

Rodney gestured to the Colonel. " Look, I'll stay here with him until he wakes up, then meet you in the lab in case you need help figuring out how to use anything. Sheppard's blood should help activate it all."

Carson nodded. " Aye, sounds like a plan... so far." His tone was teetering on unease.

" I'll keep an eye on our host," CJ said. " And see if I can't find the secret to his mental parlor trick."

Carson swallowed, then headed from the room. " Call me immediately should anything go wrong with John," he said on departing. Once out, Rodney moved to stand beside John's bed.

" His skin feels too warm," Teyla said. John coughed, hard, and Rodney tensed in waiting for John's eyes to snap open.

" He's still in wicked Wonderland, McKay."

Rodney jumped when CJ's Sheppard-clad form moved to also stand beside the bed.

_Shouldn't you be Ilian watching?_

" Relax. Doc isn't to the facility yet, and like you I need to be here when Johnny wakes up. It's not going to be pretty when he does." Suddenly, CJ turned. " Hey, will you look at that."

Rodney also turned in response, and his skeleton nearly leaped from his skin. The snake-like little power-bar snatching rodent was in the doorway, sniffing the air with a twitching nose and seeming whiskers. Satisfied with what it smelled, it scurry/slithered into the room and rose up onto its muscular tail to place its stubby paws on the bed and lick John's hand. Teyla stood abruptly and slipped out her knife, and Rodney took a step back.

" Relax," CJ said. " It's just Little Jim. Show a some consideration, Rod. That _rodent_ saved Johns life. Although when I told it to stick with him I didn't mean like glue. Crap, these things are worse than dogs. And tell Teyla to put the knife down."

Rodney snapped from his alarm to see Teyla stalking closer to the creature with knife raised.

" Whoa, whoa, Teyla! It's all right. It's... a, um... friend of John's."

Teyla stiffened and looked at Rodney. " How do you know?"

Rodney shrugged helplessly. " Um, well... I think he made mention of it, one day. And the fact that it's licking his hand, not eating it... kind of a give-away, I guess," he finished lamely. Teyla looked from Rodney to the creature, then resheathed her knife and resumed her place by the bed at John's head, wiping his face with the cloth without taking her eyes from the otter-thing.

Little Jim went from licking to nuzzling John's hand while making small grunting sounds. A finger twitched.

SGA

_Wraith attacks, wraith culls, Iratus bug, mutations, chairs, lights, burning, pulsations, pain, suffocation, people taken, Sumner's death, Ford lost, Ilian, Ilian, that SOB Ilian was here. More experiments, lab-rat... he was nothing but a lab rat, time to be dissected, bring out the scalpel, start at the neck, cut, peel the skin, saw the sternum, split the ribs... or better yet, put him in the machine that'll do it all. Cut, peel, crack, snap... oh my, look at all the blood, watch the heart beat, cut his throat to stop the screams, the pleas, that annoying sobbing... That's it, shut-up little rodent... Drown in blood you filthy rat..._

John screamed, and threw himself from whatever his was lying on, only to have several hands push him back. He tried to shove the hands away but it was like trying to shove a mountain back. His arms were rebelling. So he jerked to pull away, only to have his back hit something solid and create an explosion of pain throughout. He screamed again, arching his spine as hands shook him and voices called to him. He reached out, clawing the air, trying to rip through the darkness and the agony until his hands found purchase in the hands of another. So he pulled himself to that other, clinging to cloth and a shoulder.

_' Wakey, wakey, John. Open your eyes.'_ The voice was infuriatingly familiar, and a lot clearer than the garbled voices shouting out a coalesced mess of words.

" John!"

John pulled his eyes apart, and stared into a face that caused him to do another jerk back, only this time falling onto something soft rather than into something hard. Teyla's face made his mind scream. The whole room made his mind scream. He didn't recognize it – its elaborate furnishings, white walls, lavish rugs – it was all too messed up. No metal, no sterile smells...

_Where am I! Oh gosh, where am I! They took me! who took me? They took me! They have me!_

" Where am I!" he screamed, trying to rise, then falling, then trying to rise again against a body being just as rebellious as his arms. Terror and confusion threatened to make his heart hammer itself to death against his throbbing ribcage. He tried to move away from Teyla who was kneeling before him, and Rodney standing next to her, and... his mind actually stumbled over itself on seeing CJ, standing next to an upraised Little Jim.

" What the hell is this?" he moaned miserably, dropping onto the bed when his body finally refused to take any more punishment. He panted, coughed, kept panting, and coughed some more, sucking in ragged and hindered breaths in between. " This sure as hell better be one twisted up dream."

Rodney sighed. " Crap. Um, John? This... I mean you're – not dreaming. We sort of, kind of, in a way... brought you... tooooo..." Rodney winced, grimacing and taking a step back. " Ilian's place."

John's eyes went wide enough for the lids to rip. A tsunami surge of terror, anger, and betrayal had him bolting up right and trying to scramble from the bed, managing only to turn himself and drop with his back against the wall.

" _What the hell McKay!" _he screamed, positioning himself with his feet beneath him and his hands on the bed in a ready-to-lunge-at-McKay stance, only to collapse onto his side, gasping against the constriction in his lungs. He coughed, even though it hurt so much. " I'm... gonna kill you McKay. You promised. _You freakin' promised!"_

" John," Teyla said, wiping his sweat-plastered hair from his forehead. He was lying prone on his back, one leg drawn up, the other stretched out, and energy sucked from him to the degree that no amount of fury was going to help him rise again for a little while. The room spun wildly, so he squeezed his eyes shut, and another wave of images drowned out his reality.

_Ilian watching him, Ilian looking at his lab rat, McKay yelling at Ilian, McKay standing between Ilian and John. McKay would be in trouble for that. _

" Ilian's... gonna kill you... McKay. We can't let him... We..." He opened his eyes and stared at the white ceiling.

_Where am I? _He rolled his head to the side to look at Teyla and McKay. Little Jim was pawing his thigh, grunting in agitation. CJ was staring at John without masking his expression of sadness. It was all so wrong, so out of place. He was supposed to be in the infirmary. McKay had promised not to let Ilian near him. What was going on? Something was wrong, maybe this wasn't real, but hallucinations tended not to feel so horribly tangible, and John was hurting everywhere. It was hard to breathe, and thinking straight was so far beyond his reach it seemed like a myth. Too many thoughts, ideas, images, memories, and emotions collided with each other until he thought his head might explode with them.

" Look at Little Jim, John, Concentrate on him. Just watch him, don't think. Just watch. The answers will come later, you know they will. Focus on that."

John looked at the otter-snake still pawing John's thigh. It yipped, grunted, and then attempted to crawl onto the bed, only to slip off. As John watched, the flood in his mind abated enough to give him some mental breathing room, and he felt his heart descend from its mad rapidity to a lesser pounding. But he didn't dare close his eyes, no matter how much he wanted to. Something was wrong. He had to be ready...

SGA

McKay felt ready to pass out with relief. He'd never thought watching the fight drain out of John would surpass as being the most beautiful sight in the world. Sick, really, but Rodney couldn't deny it. John truly had been ready to rip McKay a new one. Now it was as though someone had shot a miniscule dart full of Prozac into him, and McKay involuntarily glanced over his shoulder to see if Ilium had decided to make an appearance.

" This won't last long, McKay."

McKay looked at CJ, who stared back at Rodney. CJ jerked his chin at John.

" You need to talk fast, in case Ilian pops in. The moment John sees the little twerp – well – I think John might manage to dredge up the energy he needs to pounce the runt and strangle him. This is practically the enemy's stronghold in John's mind, and his brain's pretty much on red alert, so... be _reeeaallll _careful what you say."

Rodney's relief was officially short-lived, and though tension made a come-back, he slouched. " Oh crap."

" What?" Teyla asked. Rodney forgot that CJ hadn't shown himself to her.

Rodney shook his head. " Nothing. It's just... we need to be careful. John's scared... and, apparently, a frightened John is hazardous to the health of everyone around him. Um..." cold crawled like clawed fingers up Rodney's back. " J-John? John, listen, you're all right. Nothing's going to happen to you. We just brought you here to use Ilian's equipment. Oh! No devices though. None. Nada. Zip."

John's glassy eyes rolled from Little Jim to Rodney, and Rodney stiffened. " Um, Yeah, no devices. I promised no devices, remember? And I stick by that." It was then that Rodney recalled Ilian's mentioning of John needing to be quarantined. It was going to be hell moving him into the room or whatever it was...

Realization struck like lightening, and Rodney exchanged alarmed looks with CJ.

" You know," CJ said, " that does seem kind of weird. If Ilian was so bent on having John quarantined, then why bring him into _this_ house, in _this_ nice room. And no, I don't think this room counts as a quarantine zone or you and Teyla wouldn't be in it."

Rodney looked away from CJ to stare at the wall, take a deep breath, and compose himself. Something was wrong, very, horribly wrong. But he couldn't say anything and let John know, sending the man spiraling into another hell-bent flurry of rage and terror. Rodney cleared his throat, then slowly knelt beside the bed, forcing the muscles of his face to turn his mouth up in a small, pathetic grin.

" Hey, John," Rodney said. John's glassy eyes rounded over, and he scrambled away from McKay until his back was blocked by the wall.

" S-Something's wrong. Something really is wrong," he said in a cracked, strangled voice as his breathing returned to being ragged pants. He shrank against the wall, shivering. " McKay? What's going on?"

Rodney rolled his eyes and dropped his head into his hand. " I knew this was a bad idea. Well, John knew. But I knew too... eventually."

" What is it?" Teyla asked, looking from McKay to John. Rodney shook his head.

" I don't know. It's just... too many things are off." He looked over at her. The woman looked ready for a fight, which was rather reassuring, although a little humiliating since Rodney wanted nothing more than to lie down and pretend all this wasn't happening.

" Listen, whatever we do, what ever happens, one of us should stay with the Colonel. We can't let Ilian near him. I'd suggest we just gather Carson, get John into the chair, and high-tail it, but Ilian wasn't kidding when he said he had the means to help John. The equipment in that facility makes Carson's toys look like – well – toys. Anyway, ignore the fact that I'm feeling a little edgy, and pretend that everything's fine. But stay alert and, you know, keep Sheppard safe." Rodney then looked at John, who had fallen back onto the bed without ever taking his terrified stare from Rodney.

" It's all right, John," he said, feeling suddenly a little too heavy in the limbs with weariness. " I said I wouldn't let Ilian near you, and I won't... even if you are in his house."

John's only response was to cough fitfully and wince.

" He's having a hard time with his thoughts," CJ said. " But, lucky you, most of his terror is focused on Ilian, and not as much on you. I know it doesn't sound like a whole lot, but it might come in handy should worse come to worse. Let's just hope it doesn't come to worse."

" He'll kill you McKay," John rasped. " You got in the way. He's going to kill you for that."

Rodney dropped his chin onto the bed. Beside him, Little Jim attempted another go at getting onto the mattress, only to slip off and fall to the floor with a thump.

" John, I really wish you hadn't said that."

SGA

Carson felt like a kid in a candy store about to go into mental overload. The lab's assortment of devices made his head spin, and he fingered the vial of John's blood nervously while passing his gaze from one device to the next. Had he been given a week to look the lab over, he would have been in heaven. But he only had hours – if even that – so sadly it was more like hell. And as with any awkward situation, Carson had no idea where to begin.

_Moving would be a start._ He walked further into the lab with its maze of tables and equipment, some small and hand held, others large and rather frightening since their purpose was at the moment being left up to the imagination. Carson sympathized with John's reluctance to test Ancient machines. Whenever the vial of blood was brought unwittingly close to a device, it would hum to life and light up like a psychotic Christmas tree, causing Carson to jump. The noises, and the construction of some of the devices, were unnervingly reminiscent of torture devices – again, imagination at work.

Carson stopped and sighed. " All I need is a bloody scanning device." The next logical course of action would have been to try out some of the smaller devices on John's blood, but Carson didn't want to risk any accidental evaporation. He doubted he'd be able to get a second sample.

SGA

" What the hell is taking Carson so long? I though he'd at least call back about finding something in the blood."

Rodney had his back to the bed, despite the exposure it presented since John was behind him. But he'd long ago (more like minutes ago) stopped caring about possible violent reactions. John was down for the count, at least for the moment. Alert, still able to move, yes, but lacking the strength to do so. His recent panic bout had worn him out, leaving him next to immobile say for the rapid rise and fall of his chest, and the constant shivering even though Teyla had covered most of him with the blanket. She was wiping his brow even now, and John's eyes were fixed to the door.

CJ was right, all John's terror was centered on the little man and his meat-head cronies. According to CJ, the bad memories were taking a turn into false memories and hallucinations. There was still a tiny modicum of control to be had, but it was a grain of sand compared to the pebble of control Sheppard had had yesterday.

" We have to get out of here, McKay," John murmured. Rodney rolled his eyes.

" I told you, we can't yet. We have to wait for Carson, and Carson can't come back until he's discovered what we came here for, or else coming will have been one big-ass waste of time."

He felt CJ staring and him, and turned to stare right back.

" Play nice McKay," CJ said.

" Oh... turn into a monkey and go climb a tree."

A wicked smirk lit up on CJ's borrowed face. " Better idea. How about a nice little chat concerning all those dreams involving one Samantha Carter..."

Rodeny stiffened, then jabbed a finger at the entity. " Don't you even!"

" Who are you talking to?" Teyla asked. Rodney stiffened again, and CJ grinned.

" Gotcha."

Rodney turned slowly to look at Teyla, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. " The... um... otter-thing."

" Ohhh, nice save."

Indeed it was. The creature known as Little Jim (_where the hell does John come up with these names?_) was bound and determined to fish another power bar from Rodney's pocket even after having already made off with one. Rodney shoved the otter away with one hand when it attempted its eleventh try.

Telya gave McKay one of her slightly troubled looks.

_She must think all earthlings are nuts._

" No, not nuts, more like cryptic," CJ replied.

_Get out of my head!_

" Make me."

_You're worse than John._

" No, I think John would be a lot worse if he could read your mind. I mean, think of all the stuff in your head he could use against you, like your Carter dreams..."

Rodney ground his teeth. _I swear I'm going to build a device that'll evaporate you._

CJ just chuckled.

A rasping, hacking, coughing fit caused Rodney to turn his head to see John rolled on his good side and curled into himself as he coughed every last breath from his body. Following that was a liquid-sounding inhale that made Rodney cringe.

" W-Water," the Colonel rasped, his tone some where along the lines of a beg. Teyla removed the canteen she was carrying from her shoulders, unscrewed the cap, then placed her hand beneath Sheppard's head to lift it slightly. She put the canteen to his mouth and gradually tilted it. The moment the water hit John's mouth, his hand shot up and grabbed the canteen to tilt in more, his throat in constant motion as he gulped liquid. On finishing, he dropped his hand and turned his head away, gasping. Teyla lowered his head back onto the pillow and capped the canteen.

" Better?" she asked.

" Yes," he rasped. His voice was getting harder and harder to hear each time he spoke. He was so soaked in sweat that should someone not aware of the situation walk in, they would have thought John had just been doused with water. Teyla went back to wiping his face that refused to dry.

" I – I'm... sorry," he whispered, audible in the heavy silence of the room.

Teyla paused. " For what?"

" T-thinking you hated me. I know... I know you don't..."

Teyla smiled. " I'm glad."

John looked over at CJ, but CJ shook his head.

" His fear is pin-pointed. He's so focused on Ilian that the rest of his fears have been shoved back. Right now, he's calm, so the thoughts aren't so bad. It doesn't mean he's getting better. Oh, and I think you need to head down to the facility and help Carson out. He's a little confused at the moment."

_Why am I not surprised,_ Rodney grouched. He turned to Teyla. " Listen, I'm going to help Carson out which I probably should have done ten minutes ago. Remember, stay with John."

Teyla nodded. " I will not leave him."

Rodney was reluctant to leave himself, which explained why he wasn't already down in the facility with Carson. He pushed himself painfully to his feet and headed to the door.

" Rodney... No!"

Rodney whirled around in shock. " What! Why?"

John was staring at Rodney, wide-eyed and terrified, trying to push himself up. " He'll – kill you..." John said, only to be silenced by more coughing. CJ moved over to kneel by John and said something to him. Within a second, John had dropped back onto the bed.

" Be careful," he wheezed.

Rodney let out a sharp breath. " Yeah, careful." He knew John was being protective out of paranoia. It didn't help that Rodney was feeling paranoid himself. He left the room with the image of John's sickly, haunted visage burned into his brain, as though the next time he saw John, the Colonel would be dead. He looked about ready to keel over any time now, and the thought grafted itself to Rodney's paranoid fantasies.

Leaving the house, walking down the path through the thick, humid jungle, and being zapped down into the facility, Rodney had not run into Ilian or any of his assistants in all that time. Memory guided him through the maze of metal corridors to the lab where he found Carson still wandering around, leaning in close to this or that without touching it. Rolling his eyes, Rodney strode quickly toward him.

" Look, just because you almost killed Sheppard and General O'neil with that chair doesn't mean it's going to happen again. We don't have time to play nice to your fears right now, Carson."

Carson jumped slightly and nearly stumbled on turning. " Rodney!" he gasped, placing his hand on his chest over his heart. " You bloody scared me man! And that's easy for you to say since you weren't the one to nearly blow them out of the sky in the first place."

Rodney joined Beckett in looking devices over. " No, but I've had my share of nearly killing John experiences myself. What is it you need?"

Carson held up the vial of blood. " Something to analyze this or at least look at it."

Rodney nodded, then waved for Carson to follow. " This way, got the perfect little item over here." He took Carson to a flat, rectangular box-like device with a glass top like a scanner.

" Put a drop of blood on that," he said. Carson did so, and the thing immediately lit up. A holographic display of blood cells and the virus appeared up above the device, and readings in Ancient scrolled down slowly on either side.

" Damn-it!" Carson cursed. " The virus is multiplyin'. Can you get this thing to move in close to one of the little buggers?"

Rodney tapped the small console next to the glass scanning bed. The holograph zoomed in on one of the viruses, and Beckett nodded.

" Good, seems it isn't tryin' anymore changin'. But the fact that there's more of these bugs in John's system has me worried."

" How worried?" Rodney asked.

" _Very_ worried."

SGA

Teyla poured a little water from the canteen onto the cloth then returned it to John's face. He hardly blinked, and was gripping the blanket so tight his knuckles were white and his hands were shaking violently.

" We have to leave," he whispered, and coughed. Saliva flew from his mouth in silver strings, and blood flecked his lips from a throat rubbed raw.

" I know," Teyla said. " But we must wait for Carson and Rodney."

The creature Rodney had called Little Jim was sniffing around the room, poking into nooks, rising on its tail to study the small writing desk on the right of the room, but never leaving the room. It bounded back to the bed and rose on its tail to try and scuttle onto the mattress. This time, it succeeded, and moved up to John's face to sniff at him.

" Hey Jim," John mumbled without looking at the creature. Jim moved around John and began burrowing beneath the blankets as though searching for something. When it didn't find that something, it gave up and slid off the bed. It reminded Teyla of the little animals the children of her village liked to bring home and tame. She had been one such child in her youth, once taming a clilt, an animal John had once said looked like an earth creature called a Tasmanian devil, only smaller and with less of a nasty disposition. Clilts, in general, were most amiable as long as they were fed, and very loyal if brought up when they were still small.

This _Jim's_ loyalty amazed her, and she wondered if John had been raising it in secret for some time, or if it was just the creature's nature to become so easily attached.

Suddenly, Jim squeaked and bounded beneath the bed. Teyla started in surprised, pausing in wiping John's forehead. She then felt a slight pressure on her wrist and looked at it. John had his hand wrapped around it, but was looking past her, breathing even faster.

" Miss Teyla."

Teyla snapped her head around to see a tall man with dark skin similar to Ronon's in tint, and straight black hair pulled back in a tail. Like the assistant called Jy, the man was dressed in a tight-fitting white tunic that looked ready to burst from the strain of so many thick muscles.

_So many giants, _she thought suspiciously. " Yes?"

" Ilian has made a request, but wishes me to speak with you in private so that the one called John will not be disturbed."

The grip on Teyla's wrist tightened unsteadily.

" No," John gasped, pleadingly. She looked back at him, and her heart ached at the terror on his pale face.

" I will only be just outside the door. I will not go far," she said, taking his hand from her wrist and squeezing it encouragingly. She stood, but John refused to relent the hold, refused to let her go. She had to pry his weakened fingers from her hand, and laid it gently on the bed. John lifted his head.

" Teyla? Don't. Don't leave. They'll kill you..."

Teyla looked at the hulking man, narrow eyed. " We must make this quick."

They stepped out of the room, still within hearing range of John's hoarse, fear-filled calls. It sickened Teyla to hear them, and she glared at the tall man, irritated that he had pulled her out and left John alone.

" What?" she snapped.

" Master Ilian wishes the one called John to be brought down into the facility. There is a device that may help in finding a cure for John's illness."

It sounded like a lovely little hope, but Teyla recalled John's panicked rants about not going back into a device, and Rodney's promise that he did not have to go back. This was not Teyla's call, really, but John's, or more like Rodney's since John was not in his right mind.

" I'm afraid Ilian must wait. Dr. McKay is with Dr. Beckett, and he needs to be present to assist in keeping John calm. Besides, I believe Dr. McKay does not want John to be subjected to any devices. The distress it would cause John would result in injury, and we do not want to risk it."

The tall man's face was blank as a stone wall, and it actually gave Teyla chills.

" Master Ilian wishes not to wait. He says the disease is progressing rapidly and will soon become contagious. You are endangering us all."

" Teyla?"

John's desperate call was pulling at her, heightening her frustration with this man and his master. " I will not have John moved, not until Dr. McKay has returned. Perhaps things would move quickly were you to go and fetch him. But until then, John is to remain here."

Teyla turned to head back into the room.

_' Look out!'_ an odd voice – remarkably like John's – screamed in her mind, but she was given little time to ponder it when pain exploded through her skull and she began to descend as darkness swallowed her like a giant maw. The last thing she heard besides the John voice in her head was the John voice for real, screaming.

" Teyla!"

SGA

The machine was adept at _showing_ them the virus, but not analyzing it. Rodney continued to fiddle with the console, bringing up images of the blood-cells and virus, but that was it.

" This thing's just a glorified microscope," Rodney grumbled. " I haven't really studied everything in this place, so I don't know which one's a scanner."

" Perhaps if we tried drops of blood..." Carson began.

" Hey, guys?"

Both turned and flinched at the same time on seeing CJ standing behind them, scowling (which on John was a very unnerving look). " We've got a problem. One of Ilian's thugs just took Teyla. He's dragging her to some holding cell in this facility. Rodney, you need to go find her. Carson, you need to get back to John, now. He's panicking. Rodney, follow me."

The two men exchanged confused looks.

" Now!" CJ barked.

" All right, I'm coming," McKay said, and followed CJ from the lab. Beckett ran out seconds later, rushing to the portal that zapped him back to the surface. He then took off at another run up the dirt path, sweat soaking him and the heated humidity nearly suffocating him. Animals shrieked, called, chattered, and squawked, the sounds stabbing into Carson's ears. On arriving at the house and entering, cool air hit him like an arctic blast. He could hear strangled cries from above. Panting, he forced himself to run to the portal and was shot up to the second floor. He hurried into the room and nearly had a heart-attack on seeing John on the floor, trying to crawl to the door.

" John!" Carson cried, dropping to his knees by the struggling man.

" They took Teyla!" John cried out, then coughed several times.

" I know lad, I know. CJ told us. You need to calm down son, slow your breaths. Here, let me help you up."

He took John by the bicep and aided him into a sitting position with his back against the bed. John's head dropped back against the mattress as he sucked in air. Carson placed his fingers on John's neck and felt the madly racing pulse. The skin was also hot to the touch and slick with sweat.

" They have... they took... they..." John panted.

" I know, I know," Carson replied, his own heart rate about to match John's. He swallowed hard at what he knew he had to do next. " Listen, lad. I need to get you out of here. I'm going to need you to stand so I can help you into the wheel chair, all right?" Without waiting for a reply, he placed John's arm around his shoulders and wrapped his own arm around John. Even through the shirt and bandage he could feel the man's ribs, and it made bile burn in Carson's throat. He could not remember which rib was the broken one, but it didn't really matter since any one of them could snap like a dried twig. Of course, better one of the lower ones and not those caging the heart.

" Come on, John. You need to help me out now. We're getting out of here, just like you wanted."

Carson stood, taking most of John's weight until John complied enough for Carson not to have to put as much pressure on John's flank.

" R-Rodney... Teyla..." John gasped, then grimaced and moaned as they rose into standing.

" I won't leave them, lad. I just need to get you someplace safe. You're no good to anyone like this. Sorry lad, I know that burns you."

The moment they were finally standing, a massive figure filled the doorway. It was another of Ilian's 'assistants', this one just as muscular as the rest, but with a bald pate and cold blue eyes.

" Are you bringing him?" the man asked.

Carson could feel John start into another trembling fit.

" Bringin' him where?" Carson asked. He knew they were screwed. Even were John healthy, Carson doubted he would have been able to take down the wall of flesh and muscle standing before them. And Carson knew sure as hell he couldn't do it.

" To the facility."

Carson swallowed hard, then took a step back and gently lowered himself and John onto the bed. He removed John's arm from around his shoulders, and moved his own arm to support John's back so he wouldn't have to drop onto the bed. Carson was only partially aware that John was managing to remain sitting up.

" Um... he can't right now. He really needs to rest..." Carson said lamely. The man was as impassive as ice.

" Ilian grows concerned. It must be done now." He stalked toward the two, making for John. Carson stood and placed himself between the bald hulk and his sick friend.

" No," Carson said, his heart beating fit to explode and his own body taking to shivering fits. " He's to stay here. Who the bloody hell do you think you are...?"

The big man shoved Carson aside, sending him sprawling to the floor. In that same moment, John leaped from the bed with a surprising burst of energy, jumping onto the man's back when he turned toward Carson.

" Run Carson!" John screamed, but Carson was frozen in place by shock. The big man grabbed John's arm, flipping him over his shoulder and onto his back. A cracking sound, and John's ear-ripping scream, made Carson's insides turn to ice.

" No!" he screamed himself, the voice drowned out by John's howls of agony. Carson scrambled over to the prone and writhing man. By the way John's legs kept moving, it was safe to say that the Colonel's back was still in once piece, but something certainly was not. John was arching his back, and kept arching, grimacing, and writhing as Carson lifted him up into a sitting position, then leaning John against his shoulder. It was a sick thing to think, but Carson was glad that John's ribs were so discernible. He felt along each until he came to the middle and John screamed again, trying weakly to push away. The original break had returned, joined by two others – one above and one below. Another was broken on the other side.

" Oh John," Carson said sadly. " Why'd have to go and play bloody hero again?"

Suddenly, the big man grabbed John's arm and began dragging him from the room. Carson stood, fear being literally beaten down by fury.

" Are you some bloody gorilla! If you're so damn keen on takin' him, I'm aware I can't stop you, but at least let me ready the poor man. He's got four bloody broken ribs thanks to you! You drag him around like this, it'll kill him, and I don't think _Master_ Ilian will be too happy about that."

The man stopped, and Carson almost smirked.

_Gotcha there, lad._

The man looked over his shoulder at the doctor, then down at the feebly struggling John trying to pull away, his breathing far too labored for Carson's comfort. Finally, baldy dropped the Colonel, who gasped at the fresh pain.

Carson grabbed his bag of medical goodies and dropped to his knees by John. He lifted John's shirt, then loosened the bandages enough to retighten them. John gasped again and tried to pull away.

" Easy lad," Carson said kindly. " This'll help dull the pain and keep the bones in place." He looked into John's eyes, and John returned his gaze. The Colonel was silently pleading – for help or for Carson to run, Carson couldn't say. It was such a desperate, frightened look that it made Carson physically ill.

Carson looked away and pretended to rummage through his bag in search of something. He opened the small case containing scalpels with one hand, and slipped one into his sleeve. He took another and slipped into John's sleeve as he feigned checking John's pulse through the wrist.

" Feel that lad?" Carson whispered, going back to his bag. " Stay aware of it. Know it's there. You're not unarmed."

Finally, he closed the bag, lowered John's shirt, then repeated the process of getting John to stand and move into the wheel chair. Once in, Carson dusted his hands for effect. " There. Now was that so bad?"

" Carson!" Johns' voice, two of them. But Carson didn't get to respond when something stung his neck. His body became like a rock, forcing him to the floor, darkness being pulled like a shade over his eyes. He saw John staring at him, and CJ, their expressions of horror mirror images, say for one face was white, and the other healthy.

_Bloody hell..._

SGA

A/N: Shazbot! " Behold my fiendish masterpiece, from the bowels of hell!" (Quote, source unknown) i.e. the vile, vicious, and vociferous cliffhanger! Mwhahahahahaha!

Okay, I really thought this was going to be the last chapter, but there's so much left that I couldn't fit it all into one. That, and the cliffhanger was just beckoning. Mwhahahahahaha! Ha-ha, ha... ha... Oh, wait, I'm putting up two chapters. Darn!


	8. Blazing Synapses

A/N: Happy New Years! Two chapters just for you. Aren't I generous? More whump then? More whump then.

Part Eight

Blazing Synapses

CJ didn't have to be near John to feel his distress like a constant explosion. Too much was going on for the man to handle, but there was little if anything CJ could do except get Rodney to help Teyla and let Carson stall whatever was going on.

He and Rodney were almost at a run through the blank halls that never altered say for the occasional door.

" You'd think the Ancients would give artistic creativity a little more consideration," he said, but knew Rodney was too close to the edge of panic to respond. " We're almost there," CJ said instead.

They were rounding yet another corner into another blank corridor when a massive body blocked the way. CJ passed right through, but Rodney collided with it to go falling onto his back.

" Whoa!" CJ cried, turning to stare at Jy's muscular back as the big man bent to pick up Rodney by the collar of his shirt.

" Where are you going, Dr. McKay?" Jy asked in that annoyingly flat, emotionless tone. These so called assistants could have been Ilian's genetically perfected clones. Jy released McKay and stepped back. Rodney cleared his throat uneasily, and CJ caught the constant stumbling block in his brain.

" Um..."

CJ popped in beside Rodney. " You're looking for Dr. Beckett, you seemed to have lost him."

" I'm... looking for Dr. Beckett. I seemed to have lost him. Um... you haven't seen him, have you?"

Jy shook his blond head. " No."

" Oh, well, if you do – tell him I'm looking for him. And..."

" This is no time to be wandering around..."

" That this is no time to be wandering around! Yeah."

CJ grinned. " Good boy."

" Shut up," McKay mumbled. He then made to pass Jy, only to have Jy move an inch and block the way again.

" He is not down that way."

Rodney stepped back. " Oh, well, um..."

" Maybe he is now," CJ said.

" Maybe he is now."

" No," Jy said, " he is not."

Rodney let out a sharp, nervous breath he was hoping passed as sounding impatient. No such luck.

" Look, there's something I need to do, and it's down this particular hallway where I need to do it, so if you would excuse me..." He attempted another veer around the big man. Jy's hand shot out, grabbing Rodney's wrist, squeezing and twisting. The smaller man screamed and dropped to his knees as the wave of agony slapped CJ in the face. Since the big guy obviously couldn't see him for some illusionary intervention, CJ entered deeper into Rodney's mind and adjusted his pain receptors to keep him from passing out.

Rodney, panting, tried to pry the thick fingers from his wrist. His pain might have been diminished, but Beckett did not have to be present to tell them that Rodney's wrist was broken. The crunch and snap of bone had been audible enough. Jy released Rodney's wrist to take him by the bicep and lift him up, then proceeded to escort/drag him down the hall.

" Ah crap," CJ growled. Between Rodney's pain and John's increasing terror, he felt like he was developing multiple personalities. " Son of a..." He followed Jy as he hauled Rodney to the same room where Teyla had been dumped. Ironically, it was the quarantine chamber Ilian had spoken of, accessible only from the outside. Jy pressed his hand on a glowing blue panel that turned green. The door slid open and Rodney was dragged inside, struggling feebly. Teyla was also inside, crouched in a corner and pressing her hand to the back of her head. Then the door slid shut and the light went blue.

_CJ!_

_' Hold tight, Rodney. Help Teyla, she's hurt. And... Damn it, Someone's with Carson and John!'_

This was getting bad. CJ studied the switch. It wasn't that high, and didn't require the gene to activate. He shifted from the facility to the guest room, materializing beside John just in time to see baldy coming up from behind Carson with a small, syringe-like item. Both CJ and John shouted, but the needle was already being plunged into the neck, and Carson went down.

" Son of a...! CJ barked. John, panting, tried to move himself from the chair to help the doctor. Then the dark skinned thug entered to drag Carson away as baldy took the handles of the chair and wheeled John out, leaving CJ alone in the room.

" CJ!" John screamed. CJ was getting first hand experience of why John hated feeling helpless so bad. The Colonel's emotional wave was actually making CJ dizzy. There was no one left to provide aid, and it seemed the only road to go down was to flit back to Atlantis and make himself visible to Weir.

A small, quiet consciousness whispered through the mental ambient. An idea that could only be born from desperation formed in CJ's ethereal mind.

There was always Little Jim. His small presence was tucked under the bed, frozen by animal wariness.

" Little Jim, I'd say it's your time to shine."

Jim poked his head out and barked.

SGA

John couldn't breathe. He was panting like a man in a race, but the air he took in wasn't enough for his half-starved lungs. He coughed, trying to clear the gunk out and make room, and choked on phlegm. The resonating pound of his own heart was deafening.

The bald man – orderly on steroids – hovered behind John as he wheeled the chair down the sterile rat maze that was the Ancient facility. He had one thick hand on John's chest in restraint more than to keep him up.

" No, no, no, no, no..." John panted between gasps. They went down corridor after corridor until they came to a door at the end of yet another hall. John wanted to vomit as the door slid open and he was pushed into a room with a rectangular metal table dominating the center, and a console on the far left side of the room. Ilian was standing behind that console as was Kelna prepping this new torture device.

" They are being unreasonable," Ilian was saying. " They have what they need at their disposal to save this man, and they refuse to use it. This is for their own good. Either this man must be healed or destroyed. It is the mandates of safety.

_Destroyed? Killed? Death? Die? Death machine!_

Images of pain and death ripped like knives through his brain, igniting a mountain of a migraine that felt too big for his skull to contain. His stomach roiled, threatening to expunge, and John's spine went stiff enough to snap.

" No, no, no, no, no..." he continued, but it was becoming a beg, a plea.

" Place him on the table," Ilian instructed. The bald man came around the chair and lifted John below the armpits like he was a child – albeit a very tall child. John's feet dragged. His terror accumulated into the need to escape the death device, and he planted his feet on the floor, trying to push back.

" No!" he screamed, pushing at the man, digging his heels into the smooth floor, then slamming his foot into the man's knee-cap. The man grunted, gritting his teeth.

" Oh subdue the man already. He is not threat. And I do not wish to use another dart, I have very few left."

The bald man's eyes flashed with fiery anger, and he threw John against the wall. John's head and shoulder connected with a crack, and he slid down the stainless metal into a heap on the floor. Pain was throbbing through his shoulder and his head, but there was a perpetual night hovering at the edges of his vision, and the spinning room made for a good distraction from everything else. He was lifted up roughly and dumped onto the cold table. There was something telling him, some voice or instinct, that he needed to move, to run, to fight, anything. He tried to move his arm, but that only awoke the pain that gripped it and caused the darkness to creep a little closer over his sights. He coughed, wheezed, and curled as best he could on the table.

_Help me, _he begged. _Why can't I wake up?_

_' Hang on John,'_ said a familiar voice. _' Just hang on. The machine won't kill you. You'll be all right. Just don't give up...'_

SGA

CJ wished he had powers, like that Cyclops guy on X-men. Laser-shooting eyes, that would hit the spot... that bald spot on Ilian's head. But all CJ could do was stare daggers and wish.

Kelna's hands moved fast over the console. Baldy had moved behind the console to join his master and cohort. CJ peeled his eyes from Ilian to look at John and continue his mental ministrations, which was all he could do until Little Jim came through. John was huddled on the table, shaking as though freezing, but cold wasn't exactly a major concern for John. Even being half-conscious couldn't stop the fear, but it _was_ preventing his heart from stopping out of fright.

If John could see himself, he'd be pissed at how small and frail he appeared to be on the table, like a discarded corpse. CJ had thought for sure that John was dead the moment that hair-less gorilla threw him against the wall. But if Sheppard was anything, it was resilient. He'd survived too much to be bested by a freakin' wall. Still, CJ was aware of John's struggle just to get enough air into congested lungs and ignore the pain of shattered bones. The man really was falling apart, but he wasn't going to fall without a fight. The virus couldn't stifle everything.

" It is ready," Kelna said. Ilian nodded, and she pressed something that caused a rectangle of glass in the ceiling over John to light up bright as day, and a glittering beam of blue light to surround John. A hologram of readings opened up before Ilian and Kelna, scrolling slowly. Between the writing was an image of the virus.

CJ read over the information quickly, thanking Rodney for the quick 'how to read Ancient' lesson. He lifted an eyebrow in surprise.

" Seems the Ancients knew about this thing after all." But not for very long. It appeared that the effects of the virus was different for different beings, yet most potent with those carrying the Ancient gene. CJ really wasn't liking what he was seeing.

" Hm," Ilian said. " Seems to be less of a contagion than I supposed. Still, safe than sorry."

CJ shot his angry gaze at Ilian. " Knew you were a lying little weasel... Bastard." He went back to the info, memorizing it. Carson would need to know of this. He then looked back at John when the rapid, wheezing pants echoed in the chamber. Sheppard's dazed state was wearing thin.

" It's okay, John. It's just a scanner. You're all right, it's almost over. Just hang on... And remember the scalpel in your sleeve..."

SGA

When the blue light vanished, John moved quick, pulling himself to the edge of the table and puking all over the floor even with pain screaming through his ribcage.

" Oh dear, look at the mess he is making," he heard Ilian say. " You see? Warriors have no respect for science and technology. They are good only for defense and study. Now stop him before he violates the chamber further."

John gagged, coughing and inhaling as deep as his ribs would let him.

_' Scalpel, John. Scalpel. Act now while you can. It won't last. Teach these SOBs what it means to be a soldier.'_

John felt the scalpel cold against his skin within his sleeve. He pulled his hand into his sleeve and wrapped his fingers around the metal handle. Thick hands grabbed him by the bicep and pulled him from the table, letting him drop to the floor. The thug then began dragging John to the chair. Pain was having a field day with John's body. He used it, and his terror, to force the little adrenaline left existing in his body to come together and give him what he needed. He managed to get his feet under him, then maneuvered the scalpel through his sleeve. With the floor firmly beneath him, he whipped around quick as a striking snake, throwing his arm out and slashing baldy across the throat, right on the jugular. Blood spurted from the wound and gushed down the man's bull neck to soak into his white shirt. Baldy gurgled, gasped, clutching his throat, then fell to the floor in a lifeless heap.

John stumbled back, locking his knees to stay upright though the room spun and wavered.

" _Now you know how it feels_!" he screamed at the dead man. He rolled his fevered, hate-filled eyes up to look at Ilian, and felt a surge of cold satisfaction at the fear turning Ilian's face white and making Kelna's jaw drop.

" Kick his ass later John," CJ said from beside him. " You need to get out before the calvary comes in. Their calvary, not yours."

John nodded. Yes, that was what he needed to do. Bring in others. Take Ilian down. John turned and stumbled from the room, leaning against the door then the wall for support, the scalpel dripping blood onto the floor in soft pats.

SGA

Carson looked Rodney's swollen wrist over.

" Ow, ow, ow, ow..." Rodney hissed. Carson sucked in a breath through his teeth.

" Sorry, lad. Looks to be broken. Teyla? How are you doin'?"

Teyla, pale but alert, swallowed. " I am fine."

Carson's mouth turned up a crooked, nervous grin. " Aye, fine, right. You may have a concussion, lass. Those big lads have quite the punch." He winced when pain tapped danced about his skull. Ilian's sedatives had an even worse punch.

When Carson finished his feeble scrutiny of Rodney's arm, Rodney pulled it against his chest. " You think they put John in the X-ray device?" he asked.

Carson sat back against the wall, sighing heavily. " I hope not. The stress would kill him."

" What can we do?" Teyla asked. Carson could only shrug as thoughts of John screaming in terror flitted through his thoughts. He didn't want to think about it, let alone admit to it, but chances were that once Ilian was finished with John, John would barely be alive – if he was alive at all. Carson closed his eyes.

" Poor lad," he mumbled.

" Who, John?" Rodney asked.

" Aye, who else. Gaw, we should never have brought him here."

Rodney looked away, and Teyla looked to the floor. It was like they were mourning.

Just then, the door slid open. All three scrambled to their feet, ready to jump which ever of the gorilla-goons stepped through. Instead, a golden otter head poked in, making whuffing grunts as it sniffed the small chamber.

" Um..." Rodney began.

Carson shook his head. " Never mind, let's just go while we can." He led the way from the cell and down the numerous corridors with Little Jim bounding behind, still whuffing. Carson let the scalpel hidden up his sleeve slip into his hand, it being the only weapon they had.

" Where might they have taken John?" Teyla asked.

" Isn't that the million dollar question," Rodney mumbled. " He could be anywhere, strapped to any device, screaming his lungs out right now. So if we keep _real _quiet long enough, we might be able to hear him."

" I think we should try that X-ray device," Carson suggested. He turned right, and stumbled to a stop on seeing the dark-skinned thug jerking to a halt, only to resume stalking toward them but at a quicker pace.

" Oh bloody hell," Carson gasped, quickly backing away while holding the little scalpel out before him. They didn't get far when the bigger man did another jerking halt, his eyes rounding and glazing over, then his body falling forward like a chopped tree. A scalpel was sticking out of the back of his neck, and standing at the man's feet was an unsteady, wild-eyed John, breathing fast and hard.

" John!" Carson cried.

" Sheppard?" Rodney said.

Carson took three steps toward John, and John stumbled four steps back, wavering until he fell against the wall and slid down into a cringing huddled mass of skin and bones. Carson stepped over the body and crouched in front of John, dropping the scalpel with a clatter and raising both his empty hands.

" Steady lad, steady. It's all right, you're safe now."

John coughed, and the feral look gradually melted into heavy-lidded weariness. " I – I'm – I'm... _really_ tired, Carson," he said, his voice quiet and hoarse. Carson slowly reached out to place his hand on John's shoulder. John flinched, but did not pull away.

" I know, lad. I know. We're going to take you home."

" There's something we need to do first."

Carson looked up to see CJ standing behind John.

" What?"

CJ's face was strangely blank. " Not here, top side. We'll be needing a little privacy."

Carson nodded, then turned to Teyla and Rodney. " Teyla, lass, if you're up to it, help me get the Colonel to his feet."

" I am," Teyla said, and walked over to Carson. They both placed John's arms around their shoulders, and their arms around his back. Slowly they rose up with John's head lolling about his neck.

" Easy now," Carson said as they proceeded to move. CJ led the way through the corridors, Little Jim grunting behind. No one spoke as they went, and even the smallest sound made them jump. It was slow going having to carry John who moved in and out of consciousness, his head dangling from his neck like dead weight. But they reached the transport, and were only ten steps away.

" Hey!" A deep voice boomed.

" Ah crap, It's Jy!" Rodney cried. " Hurry!"

Carson chanced a glance over his shoulder to see the man running toward them, fast. Rodney and Teyla quickened their steps, with Rodney stumbling behind. But Jy was gaining quickly, and already reaching for McKay when he suddenly fell face-first to the floor, crying out. Looking back again, Beckett saw the man trying to kick Little Jim off his leg, and ended up sending the little creature sliding across the floor toward the portal just as the others were about to enter. During the time it took for Jy to stand, Rodney hit the switch and the rings came shooting down to zap them back to the surface in a flash of light.

Hot, moist air met their faces, and Beckett had never been so glad to feel it. The moment they stepped from the rings, Rodney bent, picking up a huge rock and smashing the portal switch embedded in the ground. sparks flew, and the rings did not come up to deliver Jy.

" He likes that facility so much, he can just die in it," Rodney growled, and his dark tone sent cold radiating through Carson. Rodney looked at him and shrugged.

" What? There's another way out. But by the time they find it, they'll be so sick of each other that one of them's bound to kill Ilian."

They continued on to the house, still following CJ.

" Why are we going back there?" Carson asked.

" I'll explain when we get there," CJ stated. " I will say this, there's some equipment inside we're going to be needing." He took them inside, then to the second floor and the guest room.

" Lay him on the floor," CJ said. Carson relayed the instructions to Teyla, and they both gently lowered John so that he was lying down. The man's eyes were half closed, and his breathing unnervingly shallow. Carson felt his pulse and was shocked at how weak it was.

" Why are we back here?" Teyla asked. Carson looked at CJ.

" We don't have a lot of time," CJ said. " All that crap John just went through is slowly killing him with exhaustion. His body's giving up, and he isn't in control enough to fight it. Listen, they put John in a device. It scanned him and discovered the nature of the virus. Ilian lied, it isn't as contagious as he said except to those where the gene has a stronger presence. It was attacking the Ancients, which is why they built this facility, to quarantine and heal the sick. Apparently, it worked, but obviously the virus found a way to linger, maybe in an animal or something... I don't know. The thing is – there is a cure. The problem is – you're not going to like it."

Rodney knelt at Sheppard's head. " What? Wait, don't tell me, it involves blood sacrifices, right?"

Teyla looked at Rodney oddly. " What?"

McKay rolled his eyes. " Oh knock it off, CJ, just appear to her already."

The healthy John visage scowled. " Fine!"

Teyla gasped when she looked where Rodney was staring. " What...?"

Rodney shook his head. " No time for this. Teyla, CJ. CJ, you already know Teyla. Teyla, just think of John's little twin over there as your friendly neighborhood alien spook who can take any form. He's been helping us out. Now, shall we continue while the Colonel's still breathing?"

" What do we have to do?" Carson asked.

CJ looked genuinely worried, even scared. " The virus weakens its host by attacking the mind. You called in an organic computer virus, and that's what it is. It sends the brain into overload, raising stress levels, stifling functions such as the immune system. The virus is at it's most contagious when the body is dead, which was why any who died had to be incinerated. But, no worries, your ATA genes aren't quite the delicacy as John's. This virus, despite the crap it's doing, is actually very weak. Were John's brain functioning right, this virus would have been killed off long ago. You need..." at this, he faltered.

" Need!" Rodney pressed frantically.

" To reboot John's brain!" CJ blurted. " You need to set his synapses right, and the way the Ancients did it was through electro-shock therapy."

Carson blanched. " You mean... we have to electrocute John's brain?"

Rodney's shoulders sagged. " Why is it with all the technology at our disposal we're still forced to resort to cruel and primitive methods?"

" Well, it's what they did. But here's the biggest problem of them all. The farther along this virus has progressed, the greater the shock needs to be. And it needs to be constant, so no, doc, the defib won't work. John's almost at the end game, here. We're going to need something a lot bigger."

" And you couldn't have told us this sooner before I smashed the portal controls!" Rodney shouted.

" Are there items in the house we could use?" Teyla suggested.

" We'd have to test them," Rodney said, already glancing around in hopes of spotting something within reach.

Carson looked back up at CJ, but the entity's face still held that blank, emotionless quality.

" There's one thing..." he began.

" What?" Carson pressed.

CJ stepped around the three, stopping by Rodney and waving him away. When Rodney moved, CJ knelt at John's head. " I can physically enter John's mind. Force a power surge within his brain. Just enough for the reboot."

Carson was liking CJ's expression less and less. " All right. But I'm guessin' there's a catch or you wouldn't be lookin' as though your favorite pet just died."

CJ grimaced. " Well, it's never really been done before – entering a mind with our whole essence instead of just our thoughts. I mean, I've heard stories, but... they were usually told to scare the hell out of us and keep us from doing it. I honestly think..." he looked at Carson, and the fear on the familiar face was the same fear John had been wearing since the madness took him.

" It might kill you," Carson finished.

CJ nodded, swallowing though he was only an entity.

Carson looked from CJ to John's still form, his chest barely rising, his eyes unfocused as they stared upward. It would have been easy to assume him already dead had they just walked in to find him like this. He was a wasted, fragile, shell of himself, soon to be just a shell if they didn't do something. Then Carson looked back at CJ, and his naked fear. He'd aided them without rhyme or reason, and now he was suggesting self-sacrifice. Carson was at a loss.

" It's your choice, lad," Carson finally said. " We won't force you. You've done enough for us already."

CJ shrugged, smiling weakly. " Not really. I wanted to help John, and this is my last resort to do so. You'll need to get the defibrillator ready. This just might kill him too."

Carson shook his head. " You don't have to do this."

" I want to. Besides, there's still a chance I might live. And even entities believe in an afterlife. Now get ready."

Carson looked at Rodney. " Get the defibrillator from my bag."

Rodney jerked his head in a single nod and stepped around Teyla to retrieve the bag. Carson looked back at CJ. CJ had his hands on Sheppard's head.

" Hang on, Johnny," he said. Then CJ's form misted, evaporating into a shimmering cloud wavering with ripples of soft colors. The cloud surrounded John's head and appeared to seep like water through a sieve into John's skull. At first, everything was quiet. Rodney crouched down beside Carson with the defibrillator between them. They all watched John, but since they didn't know what to expect, didn't know what they were watching for.

Then John screamed, his mouth gaping wide, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. The scream ripped the air, tearing from his throat in one endless howl of utter torment. His back arched, his ribs spread, and his hands clawed at the rug, then the air. And the scream continued, forcing the others to cover their ears.

When the scream died, John's body dropped back to the floor. He convulsed, choking, then his body stiffened until it finally went limp, his head falling to the side. The room went painfully quiet.

Carson sprang into action by placing his ear to the Colonel's chest.

" His heart's stopped!" he barked. He pulled John's shirt up to his neck, then lifted him enough for Teyla to unwind the bandages from around his chest as Rodney lubricated the paddles of the defib.

" Not again," he groaned, passing the paddles off to Carson. John's chest was patched in various colors that only came with severe bruising. Carson placed the paddles on the appropriate places on John's chest and waited for them to charge.

" This had better work, because there's no way to do CPR without crushing him."

The machine was charged, Carson zapped, and John's body jerked, arching. Carson then moved the paddles and placed his ear on the Colonel. Nothing.

" Again."

Again, the machine charged, Carson zapped, and John arched. Again he listened, and again heard nothing.

" Come on lad," Carson breathed, placing the paddles back on the Colonel. " CJ, if you're in there and can hear me, help us out, just one more time."

The machine whined as it charged, Carson zapped, John arched. Carson listened again.

" Damn!" he cried, placing the paddles back on. " Come on John! Come on!"

The whine, the charge, a zap, then a listen. " Bloody hell! John, wake up!"

Whine, zap, listen. Whine, zap, listen. Carson's eyes burned with moisture that obscured his sight. He quickly wiped them away with the back of his hand.

" John, please..." he said, placing the paddles back on the bruised chest. " Please, fight lad, fight. You can do it. You've always done it. Don't let this thing beat you. Don't go out weak. Fight!"

The machine charged, Carson readied to zap.

He was never given the chance when John's body arched on its own as he sucked in air until his ribs seemed ready to rip through the skin. Carson, Rodney, and Teyla started back in alarm, then moved in closer to the man struggling to breathe. Rodney cried out, Teyla began to weep while taking Sheppard's rigid hand into her own, and Carson sat back, slack jawed as the previously hindered tears were finally allowed to fall.

Then he began to laugh, taking John by the shoulders. " That's it lad, come on. Get in a good lungful."

John began coughing hard. Carson, with Teyla, raised him into a sitting position as Carson wound the bandages back around John's chest to secure the broken bones. He could feel John shaking uncontrollably as he kept sucking in air and coughing air out. Teyla put her arm around John's shoulder and let him slump against her. Carson had his hand on the Colonel's shoulder, Rodney his arm, and Little Jim had his paws on John's thigh.

" You'll be all right now, John," Carson said, smiling through the tears. " You're gonna be all right."

_Thank you CJ._

There came no reply.

SGA

A/N: CJ, nooooo! Watched 38 Minutes a couple of times and thought 'hey, John needs to get zapped more often'. Nothing spells whump like cardiac arrest. But what of CJ? That's for me to know and for you to find out in the next chapter.


	9. Can't Keep a Good Sheppard Down

Part Nine

Can't Keep a Good Sheppard Down

It was like watching the aftermath of a successful surgery, but minus the smiling faces over a job well done. Plus the snake-like weasel thing was a major offset to Elizabeth's impression. It was also odd the way Rodney was cradling his arm to his chest, his face a shade away from being absolutely white.

Elizabeth darted from the control room the moment the four plus one stepped through, with Carson wheeling an unconscious John in the chair and Teyla holding John up by the shoulders. It was disconcerting how worn out they all were, and that Teyla had a bandage wrapped around her head. Only the rodent/otter whatever it was was showing any signs of high spirits.

" What happened?" Elizabeth asked right off.

Beckett's reply was to tap the radio in his ear. " Infirmary, this is Becket, I need a stretcher," he wearily said. He leaned his weight on the handles of the chair and sighed.

" Beckett?"

" Infirmary first," Beckett said. " Then we'll talk. The Colonel's going to be fine."

Elizabeth could only gape. She looked to Rodney and Teyla, but neither appeared up to talking.

The medical team was quick to respond and arrived with Beckett's needed stretcher. Then, with the help of that same team, they carefully eased John from the chair to the stretcher, and followed as they carried him away. Rodney and Teyla trailing after with the creature hot on their heels. No one had yet to acknowledge that the alien rodent had returned.

SGA

Beckett couldn't begin to put the relief he was feeling into audible words. Perhaps that same relief was being overstated, but Carson couldn't care less. He had plenty of reason to be as relieved as he felt.

John's latest set of X-rays showed the spread of the low-density patches to be far more minimal than Beckett had assumed they were going to be. Yes, they had spread, but in small areas, flecks of transparent spots within the brighter white of denser bones. And those flecks were few. The larger patches had increased only by single centimeters, nothing that couldn't be remedied with calcium and vitamin D by the ton.

" How's it look?"

Carson turned from the X-ray of John's chest to face Dr. Weir, who he had forgotten completely about.

" Oh! Elizabeth, I am so sorry. I meant to speak with you sooner..."

Dr. Weir lifted a hand palm out and smiled. " It's all right, Carson. I would have come here sooner, but wanted to give you some space to work. Besides, Teyla filled me in after you released her." Weir then folded her arms and rocked back and forth on her heels, chewing her lip for a silent moment. " So, John has a twin?"

Beckett blinked in confusion, then managed a small, nervous laugh. " Oh, that. It probably would have been best if either me or Rodney explained it. Not like it makes much sense to me, mind." He looked away when a small twinge of regret poked at him. " Not much at all."

" But this 'twin' is why John is still alive?" she asked.

" Aye, very much so."

" How is John?" came her next question.

" No worse for wear. I checked his blood not too long ago. The virus is bein' slow to leave his system, but that's to be expected with all the hell he just went through. still, he's on the mend, though a long mend it'll be. He has quite a bit to recover from."

Weir turned her gaze to the still figure in the bed on her left. She flinched slightly on noticing that his eyes were open, staring with the unfocused emptiness normally reserved for the eyes of the dead. However, his chest was rising and falling, the heart monitor beeping steadily, and the oxygen mask over his face fogged up.

Carson winced on remembering the mask. " I need to change that to a nasal canal. Kept forgetting to." He moved over to the bed to prepare the canal, and Elizabeth joined him.

" Is he responding?"

" Not really. Mind you, though, he just had a complete mental reboot. I'm not certain what the symptoms'll be, but I'm fairly sure it'll involve a complete lack of response on his part. Then again, this might just be some massive form of shock."

With the canal ready, Carson removed the mask and placed the secondary breathing apparatus onto John's face. John blinked, coughed, and that was it. Elizabeth squinted and gestured at John's chest and neck.

" What's that slimy looking stuff on him?"

" Vaporub. To help with the congestion. Put it on prematurely. Between his lungs and the broken ribs, breathin' isn't exactly a luxury for him. But with the virus dyin', that's got a chance to change now. My main concern is his mental state?"

Elizabeth looked at him. " Because of this reboot thing?"

Carson shrugged. " Because of all of it. No tellin' what he'll remember. And I don't know when he'll come back around. Hopefully soon since I know how much he hates having a feedin' tube placed in him."

Elizabeth placed her hand on John's shoulder. " John? John. It's Elizabeth. Can you look at me?"

John's eyes remained fixed on staring inwardly. Although he did cough some more. Elizabeth gave his shoulder a squeeze.

" He feels thinner," she said.

" That'll be remedied too... eventually."

A small yip had Elizabeth looking down, then leaping back with a yelp of her own.

" It's that thing!"

Carson also looked down at Little Jim coiled around the back leg of the bed, mutilating a power bar Carson had tossed it earlier. It looked up to sniff the air and grunt at Elizabeth, then went back to its ravenous gnawing.

" You mean Jim?"

Dr. Weir shot Carson a wide-eyed look. " You named it?"

" John did, actually."

" But you said he wasn't responsive."

Carson raised both his hands for Elizabeth to calm down. " He named it a long time ago. It's been followin' him around, even went to the planet. And I know this may sound hard to believe, but it actually saved our lives, and it refuses to leave John."

Slack-jawed, Elizabeth looked from Carson to the creature. " Well, word to the wise, don't let Zelenka see it. He's been on the warpath ever since someone mentioned seeing it again. You _are_ cleaning up any messes it makes, right?"

" This is an infirmary. You honestly think I wouldn't keep it clean?"

When Jim finished the bar, now wired on the numerous nutrients, it began pawing at Weir's shoe, rolling onto its back and writhing like a cat toying with a ball of yarn. The smile Elizabeth finally allowed to happen was inevitable.

" So tell me about this 'twin' Teyla mentioned," she said.

Carson winced. " Where do I begin?"

" Where ever would make the most sense."

Carson looked down at Jim. That twinge was back, poking incessantly. Funny how he could miss something that didn't even have a tangible physiology – like missing a mirage that could talk.

" He saved John's life."

SGA

3 Days later

Rodney stalked into the infirmary, knocking his knuckles on his cast in hopes that the vibration would kill the persistent itch that was driving him nuts. He had tried to scratch it by sticking a pencil up there, but had lost the pencil and had to use tweezers to get it out.

It was nothing compared to the itch that had driven him into the infirmary after three days of waiting for John to wake up. It seemed a pointless endeavor to visit the man when he was still a vegetable. Carson had blanched at the term since John's eyes were open and he occasionally turned his head; but until he made some sort of verbal response and acknowledged reality, he was a vegetable in Rodney's mind.

But the mental itch had been relentless. CJ was gone, but his voice still echoed beyond...

_Well, beyond where ever the hell entities go when they die._

CJ's original speech on why Rodney hadn't gone to see John during his ranting phase of the sickness was being readily applied to the here and now. History really did have a way of repeating, and Rodney was once again forced to realize that the reason he was avoiding a visit was because seeing John invalid and out of it made his insides squirm.

Or, to put it more simply, he was giving in to being selfish again. And with all the self-sacrificing that had been going on lately, it made Rodney feel like the biggest scum in the entire city of Atlantis. Besides, a vegetable John had to be an improvement to a ranting, terrified John. If Rodney could handle that, then he could sure as hell put up with Sheppard being mute.

_Hey, mute is always an improvement... As long as it isn't permanent. _

Jim was still in the infirmary, still poking about and exploring every little nook there was to stick a nose into. The moment Rodney walked in, it bounded over to him and rose up on its tail, pawing the air.

" Oh for crying out loud..." Rodney dug in his pocket, pulled out a bar, and tossed it to the wanna-be dog. Jim caught it and scurried beneath John's bed to wrap around the leg and tear into the bar – paper and all. Other than Jim's noisy snarfing and the steady beep of a heart monitor, the infirmary was next to absolutely quiet.

John was sitting up with the help of the bed and two pillows, his head tilted to one side, his eyes still distant. Something about that was irking the crap out of Rodney. Even rebooted computers didn't take as long to get back to normal as John was taking. Carson had told Rodney about the various brain scans taken, and the lack of activity say for the primary functions keeping John alive. It gave Rodney the sneaking suspicion that rather than a reboot, CJ had fried John's mind, wiping it completely clean.

_He made him a zombie. A freakin' zombie!_ The human brain wasn't a computer. It was more like glass, fine china, a piece of excessively fragile crystal – you break it, they bought it kind of deal. No way what CJ caused didn't leave damage.

Rodney stood stiffly by John's bed as though spiting his own discomfort at seeing John ghost pale, skinnier than what Rodney was used to, and vacant-eyed.

_Now what? What the hell am I supposed to say to a guy who isn't all there enough to listen?_

He moved around to other side of the bed into John's line of sight and crouched down. He snapped his fingers in front of John's face, tensing habitually for the moment when Sheppard's hand would shoot out and grab Rodney by the wrist.

No such luck.

" John. Hey John! You in there? Time to wake up Colonel. Wraith are invading, with a couple of Genii – Oh, and Kolya said you're so pathetic you couldn't take down a toothpick."

John's eyes seemed to be staring through Rodney, too reminiscent of a corpse. Rodney shuddered. " I'd tell you to stop staring at me, but you'd probably keep doing it just for fun. Hey John, you really better wake up or Ilian's going to get you. You hear me?"

John blinked.

_Oh, a blink, goody_, Rodney thought irritably. He half expected CJ to butt in with some snappy remark that would only do to piss Rodney off – because whatever would have been said, it would have been the truth.

Rodney placed his hand on John's shoulder and gently shook him. " John?" His frustration was boiling over. Rodney straightened, pointing a rigid finger at the Colonel. " You're a real SOB you know that? We go through all that crap to save your ass and you thank us by going brain dead? What the hell did CJ do to you?"

This time, John didn't even blink. Rodney rolled his eyes.

" Come on _Colonel_. What happens when wraiths do attack again, or Genii, or who the hell knows what else? Who's going to save our butts since you obviously can't? You hate being weak, it pisses you off. You should be pissing Carson off trying to leave the infirmary, or insisting that you're fine - not giving in like this. Not to sound all pathetic myself, Colonel, but we really do kind of need you around here. And I'm not talking about your gene, I'm talking about _you_. You said once that you wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for the gene? Well, guess what, we probably wouldn't be here if it wasn't for _you_. You're an irreplaceable necessity, Colonel. You're so blasted ingrained in keeping Atlantis going that if you suffer – hey, guess what – we suffer."

Rodney's discomfort actually escalated a few degrees, but for once he couldn't stop talking even for his own good, so instead began scuffing the floor with the heel of his boot. " And... truthfully... it kind of sucks not having anyone to fight with who knows how to fight back – and who doesn't pull rank, or grunt, or give you the evil eye, or just look at you like you're the biggest nut-job in the world. And I swear, if you wake up like you're supposed to, no more machines. I've got the gene, I can do it myself – or just find another guinea pig... Not that you were a guinea pig..."

The tension born of waiting for John to just snap awake was shredding Rodney's patience. He snorted out irritably. " You know, you really are some friend. I'm being heart felt for once in my life, ignoring a crap-load of discomfort because somebody told me once that you thought I was your friend. Well... I am, I guess. So how about you be a friend and wake up now. Do me a favor seeing as how I helped save your scrawny butt?"

He felt a slight pressure on his foot, and looked down at Jim. The otter-snake was giving him a kind of begging puppy-dog look. Rodney shrugged.

" Sorry, all out. Besides, you'll just get fat."

Jim grunted, then slithered back under the bed. Rodney looked back at John and sighed. He felt odd, defeated, and - to even his own shock - had run out of anything else to say.

" Sorry, John. Sorry for all the hell you keep going through."

Rodney patted John's shoulder and left the infirmary, half expecting a John-like voice to tell him to stay. But even if it had, even if McKay found more to rant about, there wasn't much left to really say – and it probably wasn't being heard all the same.

SGA

John was floating, and preferred it to anything else he had ever experienced. Nothingness was bliss, absolute bliss. No thoughts, no images, no reasons to be tense and alert. Noises drifted by him like whale song, and he found no reason to chase after them. Noise was noise, it held no meaning for him now. He recalled things – vague and distant things that made him cringe – but knew that as long as he kept floating, those things could never touch him. It was a strange kind of freedom. He saw nothing, went nowhere, felt nothing, so in turn could not suffer the reciprocation that came with sensation and action.

But there was a nagging feeling of something being missing, something he needed or needed to do, maybe even many somethings. It came to him, even when he surrendered with everything he had to the nothingness. It was like a reminder, a knowledge of having to be somewhere or do something that was exceedingly important. He felt that as long as he didn't remember what it was, it would come to not matter.

No such luck, the feeling was persistent. It made the gray darkness flit with images, pulse with light. He shrank from it, winced at the light, tried to turn, only to see the same on the other side.

He was also cold, on occasion.

Yet even if he wanted to go back, he didn't know how. Did he need to go back? Why couldn't he stay? Where was the harm? He was tired of feeling, because all he recalled feeling was terror, and pain. He had begged for nothingness, got nothingness, so he was going to stay in nothingness.

_Wakey, wakey John_

_No. _He was not going to leave.

_Don't you miss surfing? Sweet breakers on that land mass..._

_Shut up._

_I'm not McKay._

_McKay? _

_Beckett._

_Teyla?_

_Elizabeth._

_Atlantis?_

_People need you John._

He felt it again, that feeling that he needed to be somewhere, doing something.

_No. _

_Your choice. But you can't float forever. You'll die... most likely from boredom more than anything else. Come on, John, since when do you give up on anything? _

_I'm needed?_

_Yeah, John. More than you know. _

That sounded... plausible. Important. The nag became a shout, the shout a scream. He couldn't avoid listening to it now. He couldn't leave. He couldn't give in. He was being afraid. What was it about being afraid, giving into fear? It cost lives. Fear he could feel, just not acknowledge. It was all a matter of flight or fight, and he had never not fought in his life. So what would someone call what he was doing now?

_Flying like a spooked bird._

_Shut up!_

_Kiss my butt._

John chuckled. No sound was made, nothing was felt, but he sensed himself doing it all the same on some deep, subconscious level.

_Time to wake up._

SGA

One week later

Two nurses aided Carson in lifting John up enough for Carson to put the stethoscope against his back and listen to his breathing. Carson nodded in approval at the improvement of John's respiration. Too bad he couldn't say the same for the weight issue.

Carson replaced the scrub shirt and helped the nurses ease John back. The Colonel's only response – as it had been since they arrived back to Atlantis – was to blink. Brain scans of any kind showed no signs of the deep neural activity Carson was hoping for.

They had tried to prevent John from becoming a shell, and now here he was – a shell. But what was far more frustrating was his being awake, with eyes open and blinking. It was like he was in there, but no amount of badgering, coaxing, or sessions with Heightmeyer were going to get him out. It wasn't psychological, but everything Carson was seeing with the naked eye was telling him that it was.

He still held to the hope that John was in there, buried so deep it was just difficult to dig out. Time, Beckett was still opting to give him time. After that, the only option would be to return him to earth where he could get round the clock care.

_And live out the remainder of his days as a bloody shell._

With respiratory check complete, Carson went to the table where the recent X-rays were set, and pulled them out one by one, slapping them onto the board. The patches were diminishing, but not at the rate Carson wanted. John having the ability to move about would have helped things along nicely. Exercise helped to increase bone mass.

X-ray perusal done, it was time for another blood sample. Carson went back to the table, tossing the X-rays down, then picking up a syringe. He turned, moving back to John's bed, the two nurses absent as they went to tend to other matters. Carson took John's arm, swabbing it with a sanitizer, then pressing the tip of the needle to John's skin.

" You might feel a pinch," he said, glancing up to give John a reassuring grin.

Carson started, dropping the syringe onto the floor where it shattered, and yelping out a bloody hell.

John was looking directly at him, blinking in apparent confusion.

Carson blinked himself several times before his voice finally worked. " John? John, lad? Can you hear me?"

John lined his brow, and swallowed, an act that seemed to hurt. He closed his eyes and took a gentle inhalation of air.

" H-hey... Carson..." Barely even above a whisper, but it was the loudest, most beautiful sound Carson had heard in a long time. Something seemed to rush from Carson – tension, sadness, the beginnings of losing hope – leaving him shaken and so overwhelmed that he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He opted for laughter.

" John, lad, you scared the hell out of me," he chuckled. He then pulled out his pen light and flashed both of John's eyes. John winced, lifting his hand to feebly bat the light away.

" S-stop," he whispered. Carson clicked the light off and straightened. " Sorry, sorry, just... routine stuff." Carson shook his head. John my have been talking yet it seemed so unreal, the kind of thing one awoke from, then curse themselves over for being so delusional. Carson, without thinking, reached out and grabbed John's wrist, giving it a gentle squeeze, assured by the tangible feel of flesh and bone that this wasn't a dream.

" I'm just... glad to have you back, lad..." Carson said, teetering on the brink of hysterical laughter. Instead, he tapped the radio at his hear.

" Dr. Weir. I need everyone into the infirmary. John's bloody awake!" then he did laugh. John just looked at Carson oddly, even nervously. So Carson quickly sobered.

" Oh, unless you're not ready," he said as an amend.

John shook his head. " 's fine," he breathed.

" You tired lad?"

John shook his head again. " Hungry."

Carson smiled. " Aye, I'd expect you'd be. I'll have someone bring you some food. Nothin' fancy though. You're digestion hasn't been fairin' too well."

Carson released John's hand to tap the radio, only to have John grab Carson's wrist in his weak grasp. The look on John's face melted Carson's jubilation. Confusion was dominant, accompanied by worry.

" W-What happened?" he breathed.

Carson furrowed his own brow. " What do you remember?"

John squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered. " N-nightmare. I hurt. Ilian – did – or was – doing – something?"

Carson squeezed John's shoulder with his other hand. " Aye, somethin' like that. But you no need to worry about him. He'll not be botherin' us – or I should say you – anymore. You were right about him, John."

John opened his eyes, squinting thoughtfully in recollection. " C-CJ?"

Carson sighed and briefly looked away. " He's... um... He's – gone, lad. I think – he might have died savin' your life."

John rolled his head to stare up at the ceiling. " Thought – it was quiet," he lifted his hand as far as he could to gesture at his head, " in here." He let out a half-laugh, half-sob, then clamped his mouth shut and swallowed hard as moisture shimmered at the corners of his eyes. The infirmary doors slid open, and Elizabeth, Teyla, Ronon, and McKay all filed in in a quiet procession. They hung back behind Carson, hopeful, reluctant, and uncertain as they witnessed a tear rolling down the side of John's face. He lolled his head in their direction, and flashed a small, quick smile.

" Hey," he breathed, even more quietly than before. Elizabeth was the first to smile back.

" Hey yourself, John."

That was as far as the exchange went when John's eyelids fought a losing battle of staying open and slid closed.

" 'm tired," he whispered. Carson placed John's arms beneath the covers, then pulled the covers up to his neck. He turned to face the others, pursing his lips apologetically.

" Well... apparently... he _was_ tired."

McKay shrugged. " At least he got to tell us in person."

SGA

Irony could be a good thing when it wanted to be. Of the many occasions John had frequented the infirmary, never had Beckett been so anxious to get him back on his feet. Normally it was all a mantra of " you need your rest" over and over until John wanted to strangle someone. Now it was "feel up for a walk today, Colonel?" or " maybe you should take your new pet for a walk."

John couldn't have agreed with Carson more, and had been tempted to kiss the man on the cheek. But, as the saying went; easier said than done. Walking from the bed to the bathroom winded the crap out of him. But Carson was persistent, and John – for once according to, well, everyone – finally put his stubborn nature to use. And thanks to these small exercises, his bones were rapidly regaining lost density.

Soon, he was able to walk from the infirmary all together. The trips were short, usually to the mess hall and back. Then to his room and back for periodic checkups. He moved slow, keeping to the walls for a sense of balance. Dizzy-spells erupted often, but the more he moved about, rebuilding his strength, the less severe they became. Still, he usually didn't go anywhere without an escort. He was even given a cane to use in case his energy seeped out long before he reached his destination. And, of course, where ever he went, Jim went.

He got plenty of stares for his troubles, especially in the mess hall, coming in pale, thin faced, shadow-eyed, and being trailed by a buoyant otter-thing. It was the otter drawing most of the attention, and that induced numerous smirks from Sheppard. He'd heard the stories of Jim's escapades and the frustration he caused, especially concerning one Czech scientist. John savored the odd attention. There was something about it, something about sitting down at a lone table with whoever was escorting him (Teyla, for the most part, or sometimes Ronon) and having the alien creature hop up onto the seat beside him and share in the meal. John couldn't quite put a name to the feeling it gave him. It wasn't vindictiveness or spite, and was little less than a sense of power. It was more like a sense of being unique, of standing out in a way opposite of being thin, pale, and less than who he used to be. People were amazed by Sheppard's easy camaraderie with the unknown being, and so all their attention was focused on that, and not John's current state.

They were distracted from what he had become, and he was thankful for that.

But all good things must come to an end. Amiable as Jim was, he belonged in the sea, and John didn't want to see the affects of an otter-thing away from its natural environment. Plus the only reason Jim went with John was because it had been CJ's bidding out of necessity at the time. Well, necessity was past. It was time for Jim to go home.

When John had reached the point of being able to travel father without having to lean on a cane, he took Jim to the lowest level of Atlantis, and led him to the very jetty where they had first met. On opening it, a salty breeze brushed John's face, and he inhaled a lungful. Snake-otters scattered, splashing into the water. On seeing this, Jim immediately followed, slipping from the jetty into the cool liquid.

John, grinning, shook his head. " That it then? No good-bye?" He walked onto the jetty and sat on the edge with his legs drawn up and his arms draped loosely over his knees. Jim was still in sight, sliding through the water, then leaping, performing tricks mimicking the tricks of CJ when he was the dolphin. Memories flooded into John's mind, some bad, but some good. They were mingled, but he could focus on the good now, and did just that.

He owed more than he could ever pay back to CJ. For John, the debt he felt his thanks asked for could never be paid off, not if he lived as long as CJ. The entity's motives for helping John could not be fathomed, and it plagued John with a mixture of wonder and guilt that the entity had gone as far as he did.

_Was it his nature to protect?_ John knew he would never know. Moisture burned in John's eyes. CJ didn't have to do what he did, but he did it anyways.

_' Because it was the right thing to do. Words sound familiar?'_

John, stiffening, scrambled to his feet, nearly slipping from the jetty.

_' Easy there, flyboy. Don't go breaking anything else.'_

_CJ?_

_' And don't shout! My mental synapses are killing me.'_

The voice was, once again, genderless, and without the more massive presence John had grown accustomed to. But it was familiar all the same. John scanned the water, even the air.

_' Spt! Down here John.'_

John looked down, burst out laughing, and dropped to his knees before the dolphin floating up at the edge of the jetty. The illusion was ghost-like, a rather cold reminder that CJ's form was indeed only an image. Still, even semi-transparent, it didn't stop the swell of joy and relief in John's chest.

" Where the hell have you been?" John asked laughingly.

CJ clacked his dolphin Jaws. _'Recuperating, big time, but I'm still not _quite _there yet. Listen, John, I just dropped by to see how you were. You know, to see if nearly killing myself was worth it and all? Guess it was. Funny thing, rebooting your brain. I now have first hand experience of what it's like to have a hang-over. So how are you?'_

" Alive, sane, mending, and all that... thanks to you. I thought for sure I really had killed you."

_'Ah! No biggy. It was all a matter of knowing when to pull out. I tell you what, though. I'm never doing that again, I don't care how psychotic you get.'_

" Wouldn't expect you to. So now what?"

_' So now, once I feel ready, I'm off. No offense John, but I've overstayed and am little too popular for my liking. Time to get back on the road, see what else is out there, maybe torment a few Genii and wraith along the way. I might go back to earth, see what movies have come out and all. Oh, I did manage to drop by Ilian's crib. I was trying to see how far I could make it by riding a Stargate path. Big mistake, got hold up there for a few days. Anyways, seems they got this device they wear under their skin to scramble their own thoughts. Ilian kind of ripped his out. Seems the guy's claustrophobic. Didn't kill him or anything but, hey, I don't think he's going to be mentally stable for a while."_

John smirked. " Now that's my kind of good news. But, I guess the inevitable question is – do you have to go?"

_' Hey, I almost broke a few laws helping you. I need to get while the gettin's good. For real, though, I need some vacation time. I've had enough adventure to last me another millennium. Your team at 6 o'clock."_

John turned his head in time to see McKay, Beckett, and Teyla stepping through the door onto the jetty. McKay was leading the way seeing as how he was walking fast, scowling in irritation and holding up a life-signs detector.

" Thought you'd be down here," he said. " Thinking about going for another swim?"

_' Hey McKay, come out to play?'_

McKay faltered to a halt when CJ peered at Rodney from around John. " CJ!"

_' The one and only.'_

Carson's eyebrows lifted to his scalp, and a smile slowly spread on his face. " You're alive then, lad?"

_' Never really died. Just sort of – lost my steam.'_

John pointed at the dolphin. " He was just saying good-bye."

Carson walked to the edge of the jetty with his hands in his pocket, and Teyla coming up beside John, crouching next to him. Only McKay held back.

" Good-bye? He's leaving?" McKay asked.

_' No, I just like saying the words. Yes I'm leaving. Places to go, entities to brag to. Don't think it anything permanent, I might drop by for a peek or two at a particular dream.'_

At this, Rodney went stiff, and slightly red. " Don't you even!"

CJ squeaked and rose onto his tail, while inside everyone's mind he laughed.

Teyla leaned in toward John. " What manner of form has he taken?"

" It's an earth creature called a dolphin, known for being excessively friendly."

_' Hey John, how about a swim, for old time's sake. This time without the madness and agony. And don't worry about alien barracudas. Jim's still around. Hey McKay, why don't you tell John what you learned about Jim.'_

" What? Uh... it's something called a... um... Kiedda. Ancients actually kept them as pets sometimes. There's a picture in the archives... what do you mean go for a swim?"

John, still smirking, looked at Teyla and jerked his head toward the water. " It's a good day for it." With that, he stood and jumped in, sinking, then swimming back up to cling to the jetty.

" Hey!" McKay cried in alarm, finally coming to the edge.

" Are you sure that's wise?" Beckett asked nervously.

" Relax, doc, I'm staying right here."

Teyla, standing and grinning, looked to the doctor. " I will keep and eye on him," then she jumped in as well.

John looked from Beckett to McKay. " Care to join?"

Carson, finally allowing himself a smile, stepped back. " Sorry, lad, not much for swimmin'."

" McKay?"

" Not on your life!"

John shrugged, feeling more energized than he had in a long time. " Fine," and he splashed McKay, who stumbled back.

" Very mature, Colonel," Rodney grouched, flicking water from the detector. Then Teyla splashed. The two men on the jetty retreated from the two in the water, McKay barking out indignation, Carson just shaking his head like a patient parent dealing with rambunctious kids. CJ rose up on his tail, and Jim leaped.

SGA

When evening came, and John stood out on the balcony in dry clothes, he leaned on the rail and watched as a multi-colored mist rose from the water. It congealed into an equine form, a winged horse, that flapped as it ascended.

_' A salute to the pegasus galaxy!' _CJ called, and lifted a foreleg as though pawing the air. _' I salute you. And you too, John. Oooohhh Rooll the 'ole chariot along, I say roooll the 'ole chariot along, I say roooll the 'ole chariot along...'_

CJ's voice diminished, as did his form when he shot off into the star-littered night sky. John put two fingers to his forehead in a salute of his own.

_' Thanks CJ.'_

He then turned, leaning his back against the rail, facing the warm interior lights of Atlantis with the sparkling diamond-foamed sea at his back, feeling at ease, feeling at home, feeling safe. Much better than floating.

" ... And we'll all get on behind." he murmured, and grinned.

The End

A/N: Aye, 'tis over me gentle reader. Hope you enjoyed. T'was indeed quite fun to write. But I fear that's all for now folks. Will CJ or Jim make another appearance? In the words of my sister... Maaaybe! CJ definitely might, since I had another story planned involving him, but that probably won't be for a long, long time. I've got something much more – how shall I say – twisted planned. But, again, not for a while.

If you would like your own Kiedda, please contact Sheppard in the Pegasus galaxy, P.O. Box I don't know, you'd gave to ask Sheppard. Really, though, I may do a drawing of Jim at some time. And if I do, I'll tell you where to find him in my next story. But, again, not for a while.


End file.
